


To Shelter A Flame

by yastaghr



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blindness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Multi, Other, PTSD Sans, Post-Genocide Route, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Some Fluff, Soul Bond, Soul Sex, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Temporary Character Death, cursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2018-06-05 09:51:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 25
Words: 66,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6700105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yastaghr/pseuds/yastaghr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"angsty sansby for the seekers of feels" -Kamari333</p><p>(I honestly didn't know how to summary this. Enjoy!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Undertale, that would be Toby Fox.

* * *

 

Sans stumbled through his shortcut, chest throbbing in the cold of the Void, something like a 6 on the scale of feeling great to dead. He was damned if he was going to give the kid the satisfaction of dying where they could watch, though...and, well, no one was really around to give him a proper funeral, were they? At least he could bring his dust to be scattered in the place he loved so much. His slippers dropped onto the familiar hardwood floors.

Somehow he'd managed to forget the fact that Grillby's would be empty. It hurt almost as much as the slash in his chest, the empty chairs filled with faces he knew would never sit there again, never call out his name, never lose to themselves in a game of poker, never buy that spiked collar. He couldn't bring himself to look at the bar, slipping into his stool, the world fading to black. Oh, good. Another RESET. He let himself slip away...and woke up leaning against the door to the Ruins, a dusty scarf wrapped around his neck, and a dull ache across his chest.

* * *

The first few times he died, he didn't believe it was happening - surely everything had just RESET? He'd run home, slippers sliding in the ice and snow, certain he'd be bumping into Pap around the next corner...he never did. He never came back. He never came back.

After a while, it sunk in. No matter how many times he would kill himself, he'd just wake up to the same emptiness. The Underground empty and coated with dust, his brother dead, his hope gone. Why bother? Nothing was going to change.

For a long time he just...stopped trying. Stopped moving, stopped breathing. Nothing mattered after all. Each time he starved to death he'd wake up in the same position, so not even that made a difference. It was just...pointless.

That was where he'd been for the last few months. Sitting here, leaning against this door, starving to death over and over and over. Today was about a 3 on the pain intensity scale. No big deal. Hardly any HP left...maybe another rock would fall on him and end it early.

He thought he saw a light coming up the path. He figured he was hallucinating, since he was about a day away from starving again. He blinked, but the light didn't go away. Actually, it got a bit bigger. He rolled over, not interested in whatever this hallucination- whoops. He heard the crack of his nasal and lacrimal bones breaking on the rock wall. Ow...definitely an 8. He heard a gasp, and running footsteps.

He'd somehow forgotten that Alphys had actually managed to save some portion of the population of the Underground. Heh. Probably should have checked in with her or something. Heh. He was scooped up in warm arms that felt so familiar, yet so alien. The voice, too, was something he almost recognized, although he couldn't seem to make out the words...then again, he was more than half starved at the moment, so being a little out of it was probably acceptable. He nuzzled into the warmth, forgetting that he'd given up on trying, apathy thawing in the comforting flames.

* * *

He woke up to the feel of blankets against his bones and the smell of resin. It felt...odd. He'd never smelled anything like it, never really slept under something this soft. He rubbed the fabric between his phalanges. Huh. It was some kind of cotton blend, but...softer than what he was used to. Weird.

He tried to open his eye sockets, but something rested against the bone, and he wasn't really in the mood to dig something out of his skull. It always gave him a headache, anyway. The clicks of a computer keyboard filtered through his consciousness. The rhythm was slow and steady, not faltering or hesitating for a moment. It was...soothing. Everything was soothing. He slowly breathed in, only noticing now that he hadn't bothered to breath for...well, a while. The typing stopped.

A hissing voice, filled with fear and worry that made his SOUL dim, whispered, "...Sans…..are you awake?" It was Grillby. Gods, it was Grillby, and he sounded so...frightened that no one would come. Sans tried to sit up - his body gave out halfway there. Quick footsteps and sudden warmth. A flickering hand darting behind his back, flames licking across his thoracic vertebrae as the bartender helped him sit up.

"...Sans…..do you think you can eat?"

Well, that was a question. He shrugged, old habits dying hard. Never let them know you're hurting, never let it show you've given up. They'll only try to help, and that hurts so much more than putting up with the mask, " _tibia_ honest, i don't have the _stomach_ for much."

The flames...didn't leave him. The arm slid around his scapula, the hand cupping his humerous. He felt the other hand come up to trace the spot where his zygomatic process would be if his mandible wasn't melted to his skull. The warmth felt...nice. He felt himself leaning in. The hand hesitated, then slid around to the elongated mess that once was his occipital bone. The arms lifted him, and he found himself wrapped in flames, face pressed to the stiff fabric of Grillby's vest.

"...Sans, please don't…..don't do that…..don't wrap your pain in….in puns and jokes!" Grillby's voice grew louder and louder, flames popping at the end - but the flames holding him were gentle, controlled...safe, "...please, Sans…..for once…..you can grieve….." He felt the shivers and hears the keening, and he isn't sure who started...he let go.

It feels like hours before Grillby lets him lie back again. Sans is still shaking, although somewhere in there it shifted from grief to exhaustion. Warm hands wrap the blanket tight against his bones, then pull away.

"wait, grills-" the words slip out before he knows it. One hand returns, resting against his radius. He reaches over with his other hand, wrapping his phalanges around the fiery wrist. Sans clears his throat, unsure of how to deal with...this thisness in his SOUL, an unfamiliar squeeze at the thought of Grillby leaving, "um...don't leave."

"...I am going to make you some…..fries…..I will...I will be able to hear if you call out," Sans feels the blush creep across his face, and nods. Silence, "...Sans, you can let go of my arm now," the blush spreads. He release his grip. The quiet crackling of the flame elemental's laughter fades away.

Why did he do that?...Why did his SOUL feel so...happy? Well, okay, most of him felt like the depths of the Void, dark and empty, pain a 5 on the scale to 10, but...but there was one part, one thread, tangling through it all...one bright note in the darkness. Happiness...genuine happiness...when had he first noticed it? He...someone had been carrying him, someone warm.

* * *

He woke to warmth against his shoulder. He tried to shove away from the touch, but it followed, never putting more than a light pressure against him, light pressure and gentle warmth...oh, right. Grillby. He stopped struggling.

"...I have fries….." Sans felt the corners of his eye sockets start to tilt up in a smile, but suddenly pain. So much pain - 7 or 8, maybe even a 9. He shrank from it, then green flames burned it away, "...Sans…..please be careful….."

He fought down the urge to laugh. Yeah, careful - that was great! Him, careful, when he'd spent months starving to death over and over and over again. Why should he be...careful… "grillby," the healing flames faltered at his tone, "grillby. why?"

"...Sans…..the bones around your sockets were-"

"why do you care? why are you doing...this, all this? why?" A hand caressed his skull.

"...Sans…..you don't know?" He shrank away from the touch. Stop toying with him, stop playing with him, his life wasn't a fucking game.

"know what? that i'm a horrible monster who let his incredible brother, his amazing brother who never had a cynical thought in his life, let his brother go out to meet a human covered in dust?" the flames flickered against his face once more, and he pulled away, "that i'm a horrible monster who stood and watched as said human slaughtered the captain of the royal guard, not once, but twice?"

"...Sans-" No, stop touching him, why are you being nice? Sans knew he didn't deserve it. He had to get Grillby to see how much he didn't deserve it.

"that i'm a horrible monster who couldn't stop one fucking human from dusting half the underground?" Sans pulled his boney knees up to his ribcage, soft fabric sliding over bone.

"...stop it, Sans-" Damnit, Grillby, don't you get it? He felt the shivers spread through his bone, relishing the pain. He deserved it, all of it.

With each word, he curled tighter and tighter into a ball,"that i'm a horrible monster who let a fucking child past me to kill the king?" He let his skull fall forwards. Ow. That was a 10.

"SANS!"

His SOUL shattered.

* * *

...was that...what was...augh. He felt the wood of the Door against his skull. Oh, great. Back here again. That was fine. He'd just…

He couldn't see anything. He reached up a hand, phalanges scraping against the sides of his skull. Blink. Blink. Nothing. Darkness. He dug the tips of his bone in, heard the scratch, felt the pain… Black. This had to be a dream, right? He summoned a bone, holding it in front of his face. A glowing blue bone appeared. Was he in a FIGHT with someone? He reached out.

...but nobody came.

Okay, not a FIGHT then. Kinda needed another monster for one of those...or, y'know, a human. It could still be a dream, though, right? Wandering around in pitch black...he'd dreamt that before...you couldn't read while you were asleep, right? But he couldn't see anything...you couldn't feel pain - well, you weren't supposed to be able to, but he'd definitely felt pain in his dreams before, so...that was out.

Well, he could try walking around for a bit. Who knows, maybe Pap was in here. Yeah, that would be great. He stood up, wobbling a bit at the unfamiliar process of standing without a sight reference. Okay, so, that still felt like the Ruins door...he swept around with one slippered foot. Okay. _Step_ one, take the first _step_ …

When he reached the broken branch he remembered one important thing about Snowdin - there were a lot of trees, snow...and cliffs. How was he supposed to get across the bridge like this? It wasn't as if his brother's gate was going to break out into song...his brother...no, not going to break down crying. Get off your _lazybones_ and do something Sans. Heh. Oh, right. He could use his bones. Yeah.

Well, he'd made it all the way to Snowdin proper. Kind of impressive, actually, although it helped that that fucking flower had left all his brother's puzzles solved. The Gauntlet of Deadly Terror had given him issues, but...well, he'd ended up crawling across. It was kinda embarrassing. Anyways, that was over, and he still couldn't tell if this was a dream, so...Grillby's? Yeah, sure, why not.

He cautiously made his way through the town center...trying to avoid the places where he knew monsters usually stood. He couldn't hear any breathing, but...it would feel wrong, walking through their spot, and what if they were watching? So he didn't.

Finally, he reached Grillby's. The familiar warmth radiated out through the front door and he let the comforting feeling wash over him. This was home, just as much as their house...this was the home that wouldn't ache without Papyrus there to greet him. He pulled open the front door.

Silence. Red Bird didn't holler for him to get on over there, the fish didn't shout his name, and that tipsy bunny didn't hiccup out a greeting. Silence, and yet...not silence. All the sound he wanted to hear were absent, but the bar wasn't empty. He heard the quiet flicker of flames far off. Grillby was in, at least, but...but he didn't sound like his usual self. Somehow, he sounded...broken. Heartbroken.

"grillbz, everything okay in here?" Crash, thud, tinkle. Whoops.

"...Sans?" the ache in the flame's voice made Sans' SOUL throb.

"yeah, _hot stuff_ , got anyth-" flames surrounded him, desperately flickering against his bones, warm arms squeezing his ribs so tight he was worried they might crack. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe enough to talk, so he let the bartender hold him. Time passed.

"...Sans…..don't…..don't do that again…..please?" Desperation laced his voice. The arms still hadn't let up, so Sans just nodded. Whatever this was about, he wasn't going to do it again, not if it scared grillby this badly. A moment passed, and the flame spoke, "...Sans…..how did you do that?" Okay, that wasn't fair. First, he had no idea what Grillby was talking about, and second, he had no air to talk. The flame seemed to realise this after a few minutes, because his grip on Sans loosened.

"okay, grillz, _tibia_ honest...i have no idea what you're talking about. throw me a _bone_ here, i'm in the _dark_ ," the flames dimmed a little at that last pun.

"...Sans….." The flame set him on the wooden floorboards, and Sans heard them shift as the elemental knelt in front of him. One hand still gripped his humerus, the other moving to caress his cheekbones. Healing green flames flickered to life in his vision, swamping his sight...they found nothing to burn, "...Sans, I saw…..your SOUL shattered…..I felt your dust in my flames…..then it flickered…..there was no dust, no SOUL, I….." somehow…somehow a statement like that didn't surprise him anymore. Guess he was still stuck...here...but, if he died, why…?

He lifted his phalanges to his face once more, tracing the familiar line of his mandible, the bump of his zygomatic process, the...cracks. All around the edge of his socket, cracks, and...his nasal cavity bled into his left socket...and his right. A hand gripped his wrists, pressure light, grip unshakable, preventing his phalanges from dipping into his skull.

"...Sans, talk to me…..please," The flaming grip on his humerus kept him from sinking to the floor as he shook, "...Sans-"

" **grillby, let me go** ," he heard his own voice drop, dark and deep as it always was when he was scared. The hand on his arm squeezed, warmth radiating out and into his bones which suddenly felt cold as snow, " **leave me alone,** " He shook and shook and shook, and every shake brought a wave of warmth to chase away the chill in his SOUL.

"...I will not do that, Sans…..I….." The other hand slid down to his sternum, even through the fabric of his shirt it caught on an upraised patch of bone. Sans cringed at the pain, shooting up from a 4 to an 8. The slash...ached.

" **why won't you let me die, huh?** " Sans shouted at the memory of a striped figure, a child's laughter layering over flickering flames, " **you just keep coming back again and again and again. what, was killing** _ **him**_ **not enough? huh? chopping off his skull and leaving his dust in the snow? were they not enough, that you have to keep me here to die again and again and again, waking up against that fucking door, hoping that this time, this time they'll be back, and everything will be normal again, calling out for papyrus...** papyrus...but nobody came…"

The memory faded, leaving darkness and shivering cold in it's wake. A quiet voice spoke, "...I came, Sans….." he felt himself being slowly pulled into a hug, flames chasing away the ice in his bones, "...I will always come….." Flames flickered under his jaw, a hand tilting his face up...and warm lips pressed against his frozen smile, "...I will always come."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still not Toby Fox.

* * *

 

Grillby smiled down at Sans, curled up asleep in his bed. The skeleton always looked so...content when he was asleep, truly asleep, and Grillby felt...privileged to not only be able to watch him like this, but to have helped to make it so.

He let his mind drift back as he quietly left the bedroom, flaming fingers tracing the knots in the bannister as he went down the stairs. When had he first realised he was in love with his punniest customer? He'd felt...attracted for as long as he could remember, from the day the two brothers first moved to Snowdin, but...when had it become something more? The first time Sans tried to pay his tab? The time he brought in the sketches for a neon sign like those on the Surface?...No. It was before that, long before, back when Papyrus still ran around in that striped dress of his. The first time Sans had sat at his bar.

* * *

It was late, and the bar was nearly empty. Time wasn't that important in the Underground, not like it had been on the Surface. To really have a nocturnal cycle, you had to have a sun. Still, monsters seemed to have developed a...a rhythm by common consensus, and in that rhythm, it was almost midnight on a Monday night.

The door opened, the few remaining patrons looking up, then turning back to their drinks. It was only the newcomer, a short skeleton whose younger brother ran around in a striped dress, shouting at the top of his voice about how great he was. Snowdin wasn't quite ready to warm up to the two yet - not only were they outsiders, not only were they skeletons, but...well, they really weren't sure how to deal with a nonbinary little skeleton whose older brother and caretaker was only a few centimeters taller than he was...Snowdin probably wouldn't be warming up to the two for a while...if they hung around that long.

The short figure shuffled over to the bar, pink slippers barely making a noise against the polished hardwood floor. He pulled himself up onto a stool, the padded seat just a little too high to reach comfortably. Grillby politely busied himself with the bottles behind him.

"hey hot stuff, got anything to give someboney a little buzz?"

He turned around slowly, fingers gripping the neck of one of the sturdier bottles he'd long ago filled with sand. Everyone knew the rules - no flirting with the bartender, no pain. He...hadn't dealt well with the last few idiots to come through here, a bunch of Capitol bums who'd probably be fine in a month or two. Grillby's was a strictly professional establishment, and, well, he had fought in the war. Sensitivity came with the territory…

His grip on the bottle slackened when he saw the skeleton's face. His expression was so...fake, so...broken, like a mask shattered on the floor, pieced back together so the cracks were only visible to one who knew the design. Grillby hadn't gotten a good look at him before that moment, only from a distance, but...he'd known quite a few skeletons before the war, and he knew they weren't supposed to look like that. The mandible was, quite literally, fused shut, the scarring so smoothed down it could almost pass for natural bone. The eye sockets were far too wide, the grin…

That was it, really. It was a grin, not a smile. It was a grin that could never be taken down, never be changed...a grin that didn't spread to his eyes. His lights were dim, almost nonexistent, deep bags curving under his sockets, but...they were lifted in an echo of the expression of happiness. It had to be a conscious mimicry. This was the expression of someone who hid their pain under a mask of joviality...someone who looked far too close to Falling Down for Grillby's comfort...someone who needed help.

The skeleton looked like Grillby had felt, not so long ago...and Grillby was fascinated. He'd felt the stirrings of interest ever since the small skeleton had first appeared, but...he'd been so...cheerful, from a distance, puns and jokes and a cheeky grin. He looked...normal, happy, and Grillby never could open up to someone like that, but now…

Now he looked like the most beautiful monster in the world.

* * *

His hand slipped off the bannisters end, his shoes clicking quietly on the tile of the entryway. Not many monsters had ever seen the inside of his...well, it was best described as a mansion, although the only reason he had it was that it was a gift from the king for a hero of the war. Grillby prided himself on his professionalism, and...well, not many monsters had ever appealed to him as more than casual acquaintances.

Gerson came over once in a blue moon for 'Old Soldier's Night', which could just as easily be called 'Undyne is driving him nuts Night'. Usually, the old testudines couldn't manage the freezing hike through Snowdin. Asgore had stayed the night during his rare, semi-official visits to Snowdin...now that he thought about it, those two were the only two still alive who had...well, Gerson was the only one, now, if what Sans had said earlier was true.

His dress shoes were carefully removed as he entered the carpeted living room, slowly making his way past the overstuffed arm chairs to his kitchen. His hand absentmindedly traced the worn shelves, filled with photo albums, old books, and memories. A flickering finger reached out to caress the red spine of All Quiet on the Western Front, a book his grand-niece Fuko had given him the Giftmas before she started high school. He had yet to finish it, his own memories far too...well, he sometimes doubted he would ever do so. Why she had given it to him was a mystery.

He let his shoes carry him into the kitchen, hands automatically reaching for the apron as he contemplated what to cook. Sans was...had always been...a shallow eater, one of those monsters who ate very little. He knew Papyrus had thought Sans ate most of his meals at Grillby's restaurant...he hardly ever ate a thing, except maybe a couple of fries drowning in ketchup. Between them, he and Papyrus had probably kept Sans from starving to death...but now...now it was just him, and Grillby didn't want to think about the fact that Sans so clearly didn't care if he died or not. Later, he'd deal with that...later. Right now, he needed to decide what to feed the monster in his bed. He didn't have much in the way of supplies in the house...ah. That would do. Grillby got to work.

Poor Sans, he hadn't realised just what he'd been going through...he'd known Sans could remember the RESETs, had known for quite some time. Grillby himself didn't have the best recollection...so many years after the war working to forget that terrifying ability of humans had taken it's toll. Half the Underground had lost the ability to remember, it seemed...and the others probably only noticed a sense of deja vu.

Gerson had a pretty good recollection of the things, he remembered...it was part of the story of his nickname. Some human had kept coming back, hadn't they, trying to kill Toriel...something like that, anyway. They'd gotten through, but Gerson had figured out which of the humans had been switching up their attacks, and broke open the man's skull. One more RESET, and poof! No more assassin. Wonder what story the kids were being told these days.

...he wondered if any of the oldtimers had ever sat down with Sans and explained things. From the way...from what he...if what he said...well, Grillby didn't think they ever had, and Sans...Sans seemed to have it worse than them all. Gods, how long had that...thing been playing with him, been...breaking him? Time in that...lab of Alphys' had gotten...pretty fluid. Had it really been months, or...or had time been replaying the same sequence, over and over and over again? No...no, he wouldn't think about it. Time enough to deal with that tonight. What mattered right now was this timeline, this moment...this stew.

Grillby contemplated the liquid. It was odd, how often people assumed that, as a flame, he would be incapable of handling liquids. He lived in Snowdin, didn't he? Monsters were made of magic, and, although he would never take a bath in his life, Grillby was perfectly capable of preparing stew. After all, a skeleton without a stomach shouldn't be able to guzzle ketchup like there was no tomorrow...he sincerely hoped Sans hadn't been living off of his supply of ketchup. It was...unlikely he would be able to acquire more anytime soon.

Where had Sans been, all this time? Even...even if there had been as many RESETs as he feared...that still left at least a month of linear time since the Royal Scientist's cameras had picked a blue hooded figure wandering around the forest of Snowdin. No one had believed it, at first...everyone had been evacuated, hadn't they? It had to be the human out looking for victims...didn't it?

Then Red Bird had found the footage from Hotland...Sans, running through the Lab upstairs, searching for...something, someone...probably survivors. If only they had known...but the footage had been almost a week old at that point. At least it made it clear, without a shadow of a doubt, that Sans was out there. They had to find him...but they had found no footage of the human after the CORE...what if they were still out there?

A handful of monsters had been chosen to search, strong monsters whose loved ones were dust...or, presumed to be dust. Grillby had volunteered, had trudged all the way to Snowdin...no one had seen the River Person, although that didn't mean much...they had once gotten distracted by the currents near the dump for three weeks! Quite a few commuters had gotten annoyed about that.

When Grillby had made it to Snowdin, he'd looked everywhere...the only thing out of place in the skeleton's house was a dusty plate of spaghetti. It had nearly broken his heart...after all those years, he knew just how much Sans depended on Papyrus _needing_ him, how much of his own SOUL the shorter skeleton had subsumed to his brother's needs and ambitions...the only comfort Grillby took from this was...well, the lack of a dusty blue hoodie.

The bar had been empty. It had hurt more than he thought it would...not just the emptiness where warmth and cheer should be, not just the empty stool...he hadn't realised how much he was hoping to find Sans waiting there, hiding in the one place where he'd always come when no where else was safe, when the pain and the loneliness threatened to overflow...Grillby had peered into every corner, under the bar, even checked the kitchen...but nobody came. He hadn't noticed the red stains across the floor until he'd returned...later...after he'd felt Sans die in his arms.

The hiss of liquid on flame brought him back to the moment. He looked down at the stove, then quickly released his hold on the stewpot, letting the liquid cease its rolling boil before spooning it into a bowl. Mushroom and potato swam in a tomato broth liberally seasoned with sage and thyme. Subtle flavors, but...well, every monster knew that the best dishes, when prepared with magic, took on the feelings of the chef towards their audience. That was why monsters so rarely cooked only for themselves...and why student chefs always gave their first dishes to parents or siblings. Love of another could overcome many of the failings of a less than stellar dish...and this stew wasn't all that bad to begin with.

He set his shoes carefully onto the center of each stair, movements slow and even. He felt pride in the fact that the stew barely rippled. He slowed as he neared his bedroom, an odd feeling of embarrassment sweeping over him. Yes, it was his bedroom, but...did he really have the right to barge in on Sans without even a knock? They weren't...he hadn't...the clattering of bone against from within the room decided him. He nudged open the door.

Sans had managed to curl himself into a ball, the pink and brown, cherry blossom print comforter beside him. Grillby tsked at the disarray, although he himself had never been an easy sleeper. The stew was set on the dark wooden dresser, an old shirt spread beneath it, and then Grillby went to comfort the poor skeleton.

With his eyelights...well, with his injured sockets the way they were...well, Grillby couldn't tell if Sans was stuck in one of his nightmares, or if he was awake. So many nights, Grillby had turned the key to the bar's front door, only to turn and see the huddled skeleton, defensive joke ready to fire, quietly demanding a drink to chase away the demons. Grillby had suspected, after that first drunken rant about a talking flower, that Sans had had more than a few bad RESETs...and what better way for the past to ambush you than in your dreams?

Grillby cautiously extended a hand, letting the green of healing magic tinge his flames. It had never been his strong suit, but these past few days...well, he'd been glad her Majesty had insisted he learn. The rattling bones eased their shaking, slowly winding down as the skull turned to face his hand. Grillby felt himself flickering in surprise. Curious, he waved his arm to the right. The dark hole followed his movements. He felt his flames dance in delight.

"g-grillby? th-that you?" Sans voice shook, as if he was terrified of the answer...or perhaps, that none would come? Grillby jumped onto the bed, scooping up the small frame and wrapping him in welcoming flames, "heh, guess so," hesitation melted into a squeeze, Grillby's flames flowing around the edges of the white bones.

Time passed, and the skeleton pulled away, sockets turning away, an adorable blue blush spreading across his zygomatic bones, "listen, grillbz, about...about what I said-"

Grillby placed a flaming finger against the skeleton's teeth, "...Sans…..do not push me away. I know…..about the RESETs….." Sans stiffened in his arms, the chill of loneliness and endless self-hate crystallizing through his bones. Grillby brushed it away with a touch of green, "...Sans…..I have known…..since long ago…..before I ever met you….." He felt the confusion, and sighed, "...Sans…..did you know I fought in the war?" The remnants of sockets swung towards the sound of his voice, "...It is true…..I was one of…..her Majesty's Guardsmen…..in the battlefields where she sought out the Fallen…..I followed…..and I fought. It was never a secret…..although few humans had the power to do it…..more than once. Few monsters…..remembered much of what was undone…..glimpses, feelings, dreams…..some more detailed than others. The stronger the memory…..the more it hurt…..the more would carry over….."

Grillby remembered the feeling of fabric across sliced bone, "...Sans…..how much are you able to forget?"

The skeleton buried his skull in Grillby's chest, blue tears steaming against orange flame.


	3. Chapter 3

Sans felt...awful. He'd never known...never even suspected that other monsters might be aware of those RESETs. He'd been so selfish, thinking he was the only one with that power...he was an idiot, really, a fucking useless excuse for a monster who only ever thought about himself. Why would he be the only one to remember? Of course there were others, hell, the probably had it even worse than he did...they probably hated him for all the LOADs he'd put them through...he was horrible.

He felt Grillby's concern, and tried to turn away - he didn't deserve this - but Grillby refused, "...Sans, stop that….." the voice was full of compassion. He pushed the flame away, scooting across the surface of the bed, unfamiliar cloth rubbing across his bones. The flame sighed, and Sans felt the bed shift underneath him.

"...I made stew for you….." Sans grimaced. He hated food, hated the things he had to do eat it. Ketchup was fine, and he could open his jaw just enough to pop in a fry or - he felt his SOUL twinge - to slurp up some spaghetti. Definitely not enough to get a spoonful of stew in, though. Grillby seemed to notice his discomfort, "...stew may not be…..the best description…" The crackle of flames receded, then returned, coming up beside him on the bed. He turned his skull away from the warmth.

"...Sans, if you do not eat…..I will make you eat….." Steel tipped the edge of Grillby's voice. Sans hesitated, then tried to scoot away. A flaming hand wrapped around his radius and ulna, putting in just enough pressure to force him to stay. He expected a yank, but instead, Grillby spoke quietly, and something within Sans twanged along to the words, "...Sans, I worry about you…..I care about you….." His wrist was squeezed lightly, "...I do not like seeing you do this to yourself…..I won't…..let you. Even if…..I have to stop you by force…..I won't let you hurt yourself ever again….." Sans tried to pull away from the flame, who sighed and squeezed again, "...Sans…..I love you….."

The sound of Grillby's flames was the only thing breaking the silence. Sans was...he...how was he supposed to react to that? He was awful, he was horrible, he should be dead a thousand times over...but he would never hurt someone he...loved? Sans... _loved_ Grillby…? His SOUL thrummed as he thought the word, and a loud pop echoed from the flame beside him. He...he'd never thought about it. He loved Papyrus, would do _anything_ for Papyrus, but...Grillby?

Grillby, who had given Papyrus his first cooking lesson. Grillby, who had a space on his bar reserved for Sans' ketchup that _never went empty_. Grillby, who had been refusing to let Sans pay his tab for _decades_. Grillby, who had nursed him through _hundreds_ of RESET induced nightmares. Grillby, who had come _all the way to the Ruins Door_ to find him. Grillby, who had been _the first person_ Sans thought of when he was searching for a place to die. Grillby.

He turned, letting his magic reach out. It was a familiar exercise, one he'd done every morning since that first damn RESET, desperate to feel the resonance in his bond to his brother, an exercise that had gone unanswered for more than a month, ever since...a calming swirl of green and blue stretched across his dark vision. It was so like the bond he had always known, and yet...not. He reached out a boney hand, phalanges closing around the delicate link. A muffled yelp filled the room, but he was too focused to notice.

This link was...thinner than the other. The bond he had built with Papyrus had been there for years, years of love and affection. He had poured his energy into that bond, at first when his brother had had a busy day, or stayed up all night playing with his action figures, and then...then he'd been doing it every day, every night, lending his amazing brother whatever he needed to keep that smile shining on. Every time some monster had backed away from his enthusiastic voice, or made fun of his puzzles, or knocked him over in the snow, Sans had pulled all that anguish and pain away from his shining brother, the bond carved deeper and deeper.

There was something else about it, though, something he couldn't quite define. He ran one digit along the chord, not really noticing the quiet groan that followed. This bond was...brighter, stronger, more...complex. He traced a whirl of green that stretched deep into a coil of blue, feeling the bond shiver as he did so.

The bond he'd shared with Papyrus…it had started out with fairly even amounts of blue and orange...over the years, the orange had been surrounded in a protective coating of his own blue magic, the core of the bond always his brother's, always. This...blue and green danced, looping in and around and down and through each other, a breathtaking chain of color that swayed and danced in his vision. He went to cup the swirl of magic in his palm…

Warm flames closed around his cold wrist. He started, skull tilting towards the source of the green, "...Sans….." Grillby's voice almost...panted? "...If you continue doing…..that…..I do not think I can….."

Sans cringed away, crawling to the other side of the bed and curling himself into a ball of bones. He didn't...he hadn't...stupid, stupid. He'd been making Grillby angry, hurting him even...he- "...Sans…..what are you doing?"

Sans felt flames flickering against his rattling bones, "i'msosorryididn'tmeantoHURTyoui'msorryi'msorryi'm-"

"...Sans," flames pressed against the edge of his mandible, forcing his skull up. A thumb wiped his cheekbone...was he crying again? "...you didn't hurt me….." The flame...chuckled? "...far from it….." Grillby paused for a long time, as if he was uncertain about something, "…..haven't you ever heard of a SOUL mating bond?"

Sans wished he could see Grillby's face...he couldn't really tell from his voice whether...that had to be a joke, right? On top of everything else in this fucked up timeline, Grillby was making a joke like that? "skeletons don't form those," the hand cupping his face stiffened, "we aren't _capable_ of forming those," Sans tried to turn his head, but Grillby's hand was moving, sliding around his skull to cup his occipital bone.

"...who told you that?..." He tried to remember...static. Something in his mind was stopping him, barring him from remembering. He tore at the obstruction, magic carving into buzzing grey. A figure swarmed into view, towering over him, their hands pulling a picture book out of his fingers...skeletal hands. He pushed at the memory, wanting more information...but it refused.

"i...i don't remember," he felt his bones tremble. Warm flames cupped his shoulders, drawing him closer.

"...whoever they were…..they were lying," Sans' skull jerked back, "...I knew many skeletons…..before the war. Friends…..teachers….." Grillby's voice was filled with sadness. He paused for a moment, then went on, the sadness wiped away, a trace of anger replacing it, "…..skeletons are just as capable…..as any other monster. In fact….." Sans squeaked as his body was dragged into an incredibly warm lap, "...the bonds they formed were some of the deepest…..since the skeletons I knew…..weren't capable of sexual feelings…..without one….."

Wait...what? He could...that was...what? All those feelings he'd heard about...all those emotions...he...he could actually feel those? How could he...how would he tell? He'd always wondered, but...no one had ever been there to explain...what would...how...what?

His scapula were pressed against a stiff fabric, hard buttons pressing into his spine. One flaming arm encircled his clavicles, trapping his arms by his sides. He felt the other arm reach across the bed, Grillby's entire body tilting with it, then return, "...now, Sans," he gulped, completely at sea as to what would happen next, "...please open your mouth for me….." Sans tried to comply, beads of sweat rolling off the side of his skull - both from fear and from pain. Something metal clunked against his teeth, sending shivers down his spine…

Then a glorious liquid was poured onto his tongue. He swallowed, groaning at the incredible taste. The flaming chest rumbled, a chuckle vibrating the bones of his ear, "...I am overjoyed you like my stew…."

* * *

Grillby sighed as the small skeleton drifted off in his arms, his magical blue belly distended with stew. He very much wanted to dust whoever had told his precious skeleton he would never be able to love someone...more than anything else, that was the thing that had held them together, trapped all these years under the mountain, never able to see the sun...no matter what happened, love found a way. To think someone had...deliberately crushed that hope in Sans...it made him burn cold with fury.

All these years, he had wondered...when he'd first felt the stirrings of love, he'd been startled. He knew the feeling, knew it well. Over the centuries since the war, he had had several lovers, one or two deep enough to bond...but few monsters had enough magic to resist Falling Down as long as he had. It had been a while since his last attachment, however.

As time wore on, and the bond grew, he began to worry. The small skeleton was incredibly thoughtful, kind, entertaining, loyal...but never once did he show any sign that he was aware of the bond. Hell, that first night, he didn't even seem to realise he was flirting with the flame! It was...aggravating. He could feel the bond, weak as it had been at first...he could feel it growing. It was the strongest he had ever had...but the damn skeleton never seemed to notice!

Eventually, he had...well, not exactly given up, but...surrendered. While he hated how much the skeleton seemed to tease him, just knowing the punny skeleton would be there, guzzling ketchup and pranking newcomers...it was enough. Even if Sans never noticed...he was content.

Then the human had showed up, and everything had gone to pieces...but somehow, in all the horror and pain they had inflicted...was this one blessing. Sans knew...and Grillby knew Sans had never known to look. It hadn't been him...he hadn't done anything wrong, hadn't scared the skeleton off. Now...despite everything...they were together...and that was more than he had ever dreamed.

* * *

Sans woke surrounded by warmth, comforted and safe. He sent out a pulse of loving blue...and a pulse of welcoming green came back.

"...Morning, lazybones….." Warm lips pressed down on the join of his frontal and parietal bones.

"uh," he wriggled. The warmth surrounding him rumbled with laughter. Firey arms lifted him out of his perch, setting him carefully on soft blankets, "grillby?"

"...Sans….." Flames flickered against his cervical vertebrae, a warm skull nuzzling his neck. Sans felt himself blush, embarrassed...but also, strangely...tingly? He didn't really understand, but it felt nice, whatever it was. He leaned into the sensation, and...a tongue lapped across his clavicle? What the fuck? He tilted away from the odd sensation...wait, he'd enjoyed that. Crap.

He felt the blush spread as he leaned back over towards the flame, hesitant to ask for what he wanted, "um...do that again? please?"

Grillby's warm chuckle filled the air, and the tongue returned. Oh, that was..that was nice. "hmnah!" The tongue buzzed as Grillby's flames shook with silent laughter. It pressed deeper, pressure trailing along the clavicle and around to his acromion, lapping little circles across the odd jump between them. The small point of pressure filled Sans entire awareness until-

He jumped away from the flames that were _inside_ his ribcage, "...Sans, if you're going to…..keep doing that….." Sans felt ashamed. He was enjoying this, but clearly he was too much of a screw up to do it right. Every time Grillby did something new, he pulled away, and the tingling sensation in his magic died down again. Why should he even bother...he was pointle- "...Sans…..do you trust me?"

Sans felt his skull tilt to the side. Of course he trusted Grillby...although there really wasn't anything he was scared of, now. He nodded, uncertain as to where this was going.

"...Sans...I want you to feel good, but at this rate….." Sans didn't think he could blush any harder. Why was Grillby so nice to him? "...if you keep pulling away…..I don't think this will work…..would you let me….." Grillby paused for a long time, one hand idly tracing circles on Sans' tibia. Finally, he spoke, "...would you be willing to let me take control?"

Sans froze. That was...that was a little terrifying. He was going into this _blind_ , heh heh heh, but...he hated feeling helpless. Then again...what was the worst that could happen to him? He'd just wake up back at the Ruins Door, or...well, dying for real wasn't all that bad an option. He nodded, and Grillby's hand paused...then, slowly, the warmth of Grillby's body approached his face and kissed him.

The kiss was slow and tender, the flaming tongue tracing every tooth before slipping into his mouth. Sans felt flickering green flames reach into his SOUL, and, after a moment's hesitation, he surrendered. The alien green sent a spike of his own magic running along bones to his hyoid, where it dipped into his nerve lines and took on a solid form. Grillby's tongue tangled with this new appendage sending tingles up his spine.

Grillby's magic dipped deeper into his own abilities, tapping into the remnants of the gravitational magic his brother had been so proud of developing...Sans hadn't realized he still had it. A touch of blue was spread into his arms and legs, pinning them to the bed. Sans felt flames reaching under his shirt. He squirmed, pulling away from Grillby's kiss - the hand was getting really close to his...death wound.

Sans gulped, "um...," he shifted, "don't hurt me...please…?"

"...Sans…..I will not touch anything if you do not want me to…." A hand caressed his cheek, "...may I see?"

Sans hesitated, then tried to shrug. Why not? The blue on his arms hindered the gesture, but Grillby seemed to figure it out. Flaming lips brushed his cheek, and Grillby carefully worked...whatever shirt Sans had on over his head. The flame hissed in sympathy.

The silence lengthened, and Sans squirmed, "um...grillbz?" Suddenly, flames flickered beside the slash, warm fingers barely brushing his bones. Sans breath hitched. Oh, that was...that felt...good. Lips pressed against his teeth, and he let the flaming tongue in. Grillby's finger hooked around a rib, pulling slightly as he slid the digit back and forth.

"mmn, gri- ah," the tingles built, buzzing and echoing along his bones, down and around and through. His SOUL pulsed in rhythm with Grillby's finger, slowly picking up speed. Sans felt...thick, stuffy, his mind filled with fuzz in a way that vaguely reminded him of a cold, but _so_ much nicer. All the sensations, all the buzzing, built and built and built until it burst.

Blue magic danced in his vision, swirling and popping and spiraling away. He felt...amazing. Grillby's heat backed away, finger uncurling from his rib, green magic pulling out of his SOUL, leaving him limp, "grillby, that...um...thank you."

The flame chuckled, a small kiss blossomed on his frontal bone, "...anytime….." Sans drifted into slumber.


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

 

Grillby watch the adorable skeleton drift back into sleep, Sans' skull still tinged blue with the aftereffects of his orgasm. The echoes of pleasure Grillby had felt through the bond were intoxicating...and that display...he suspected his flames would be burning with a blue core for quite some time. No wonder Sans was exhausted. He was more than a little tempted to curl up beside the skelly...he sighed, and drew the comforter over his sleeping lover.

Grillby padded quietly over to his desk, sinking slowly into the creaky chair...Sans didn't stir. He smiled...he knew how much better a monster could sleep when they felt relaxed and safe...he'd had his share of sleepless nights, lately. He suspected tonight would break the streak.

He turned back to the computer, an older model he'd retired to his home from the bar a few years ago, after Sans had surprised him with a system built especially for the flame. This old thing was a bit finicky, but worked well enough for his purposes. He started the long process of getting it up and running.

Finally, the maze of options had been navigated, and he was able to open up a connection to the Undernet. He didn't have much in the way of an online presence...an email was just about all he could manage, although Sans had been working on a webpage for the bar before...everything, the human...he doubted it would be finished, not that it mattered.

The inbox of his email opened up, the always-ignored message to update closed out. Hmn. He had a message. He opened it up - it was from Alphys, and she seemed worried. He had begun writing a report when he'd brought Sans home the first time, but...with everything that had happened, he had not had the time to report...perhaps he should fix that.

He began typing, the process slow. Words were a challenge for him, had _always_ been a challenge for him. Fire was not precisely designed to interact well with a medium so reliant on oxygen. Still, when he did speak, or write, he put as much effort as possible in so that his meaning would be clear...Sans had been the only one in many years who had pushed him to speak from his emotions. Perhaps that was a good thing, once in awhile.

> Doctor Alphys,
> 
> I do apologize for the length of time since my last report. I have been rather busy.
> 
> I have Sans. He has been injured, and ~~was close to starvation~~ I have been ~~caring feeding~~ nursing him ~~for several~~ since just after my last report. He is too ~~unstable~~ damaged to be moved at the moment. I am confident that the area around Snowdin is safe enough to begin rehoming evacuees...it is likely that the remainder of the Underground is as well.

Grillby sat for a long moment in silence, pondering how much to tell the yellow monster. A great deal of what had happened was...not something which could, or should, be explained over an email...and he was not certain how much the young scientist could be trusted. The few times he had spoken with her after the evacuation she had been grieving deeply, but...after he had met what was left of Snowy's mother...he was not entirely confident of her abilities as a scientist. Besides...it was truly Sans' story to tell. He nodded, deciding.

> I believe it would be best if he were to tell you why for himself.

He felt a worried pulse of blue magic surge through the bond from Sans. Smiling, he sent back a calming green, signing the email and sending it off. He had a skeleton to see to.

* * *

Sans felt the calm surge of green echo back from the bond. It felt odd, the familiar ritual of waking bringing green flames instead of an orange glow. Not in a bad way, but...still odd, "g-grillbz?"

"...Here, Sans….." Warm flames settled beside him. He thought about sitting up...his bones protested. It was too soft, too warm...he could stay there for just a little bit longer. Of course, if his body got it's vote, he'd be fast asleep, but...he really wasn't comfortable _sleeping_ just yet. Napping, yes. Sleeping, no. Sleeping was a terrifying, painful mess of memories and dreams...he could do without that. Besides...he really needed to know just what Grillby was thinking right now.

He coughed. He could feel the flame's concentration on him, but now that he'd spoken...Sans really wasn't sure what to talk about. Heh. That was a first - he'd never had issues talking with Grillby before...at least, not when the existential uncertainty of RESETs wasn't involved...maybe he could start there? "hey, uh, grillbz...um…" flaming digits wove their way in between his own, warming, supporting, loving.

He felt divided - on the one hand, he just wanted to snuggle into the safety of that love and never come out. On the other hand, though, he hated this. _Relying_ on someone, _needing_ someone. He'd always been the one taking care of others, watching over them...even Grillby. He'd hear the flame mention some new thing he'd like in the bar, some problem he'd been having, and...taken care of it. Somehow, for Grillby, the effort...any effort...was worth putting in.

"so, uh," If he were standing up right now, he knew he'd be scuffing his slippers in the snow, "you, uh...know about the RESETs...how much gets through…?"

A single flame traced its way along his metacarpals. It felt...unconscious, like the action of someone who was nervous enough to need something for their hands to do, some touch to anchor them, "...not much…..less than I used to remember…..although….." The finger slowed it's pace, "...although many of my dreams are...too vivid to be only that…..it is not as though my days vary much in any case….."

Sans slumped, "yeah...m'sorry," He heard the flame snort, his skull turning towards the noise, "what?"

"...You are adorable….." Sans felt himself blushing. Compliments were...not something he was comfortable with. He was an awful monster, and...adorable? Gods, he was short, his skull was half-melted, his sockets were massively oversized. Hell, the front of his skull had been crushed beyond repair...and Grillby thought he was adorable? No, that was...he was just lying, trying to get Sans to, "...Sans, you're doing…..it…..again, aren't you?"

He shrunk. How could he know...why did he care? Grillby was this...burning light at the end of the tunnel, a warm bar at the end of the storm...and he was wasting his time taking care of this useless pipsqueak of a skeleton who couldn't even- "...Sans," Grillby sounded annoyed. He fought the desire to shrink back. He deserved to be yelled at.

The flame sighed, and Sans felt his hand squeezed tightly, "...you are not going back to sleep, are you….." The room was silent for a long time, Sans too wrapped in his own self loathing to respond. Then the comforter was flung off, and a warm figure wrapped itself around him.

Sans was so confused. He...hadn't pissed Grillby off…? "...This is nice…..I think I'll stay here…..for a little bit….." What- no, no, he had to get Grillby away, away from him, back to...he was trapped in firey arms. Crap, "...Sans…..sleep with me…." The flames grew warmer, and deep with the bond, Sans felt something...weird...almost...draining? Like someone was taking all his self-loathing and pulling it away. It left him...sleepy...so sleepy…

* * *

Grillby felt the skeleton relax, Sans' body finally overruling his overworked mind. The rib cage rose and fell, rose...and fell...rose...and...fell…and...fell...

Grillby smiled to himself. He'd noticed Sans' only rarely fell into the truly breathless slumber of skeletons. When he did, the small monster slept for hours, deep and dreamless. Perhaps it was the complete disconnect between that and any kind of life...perhaps not.

He pushed niggling feeling of guilt to the back of his mind. He knew what he had done - directly affecting the SOUL of his bondmate - was...well, not something you were supposed to do. It wasn't quite illegal, because in certain situations it could be hugely beneficial. He'd known a bonded pair of Astigmatisms who'd shared energy for a month when one of them had broken his jaw. Emotions, however...that was where things got murky. Very rarely, a bond would be deep or powerful enough for a bondmate to directly pass emotions to and from their partner. The process, however, could be addictive, and often led to a very unbalanced relationship when wielded too often.

Whether or not there were any circumstances in which this emotional manipulation was morally or ethically allowable was a huge debate. Some held that, as it could easily lead to a state where one monster would be unable to tell where their own emotions ended and their bondmate's began, this sharing was too dangerous, and too immoral, to use. Most, however, felt that there were some cases where it would be immoral _not_ to act - most of them involved the possible death or serious injury of one or more monsters other than the affected. When the only monster in danger was the one being manipulated, however, things got...murky.

Was it really okay to overrule the depression of a monster on the edge of Falling Down? The majority of monsters thought it was, at least for long enough for the monster's friends and family to get them help. Was it acceptable to insert some courage into a monster going off to face danger? This was less clear, although it was a very similar process to the lending of Bravery to a deficient monster. Was it alright to siphon off self-doubt, self-loathing, or similar problems of the SOUL from a monster healing from mental and physical trauma?...Maybe. The floor seemed rather divided on this one.

Grillby let his mind drift in a sea of doubts and arguments, his body slipping into a light doze. Was what he had done the right thing? On the one hand, Sans was...well, he...he both was and wasn't going to Fall Down because of it...although he really would prefer not to test that...loop of Sans'. Grillby was centuries older than Sans, and should be responsible enough not to abuse that power. Sans was also incredibly, adorably, terrifyingly innocent about the bond.

On the other hand, Sans was more than capable of tearing himself apart based on those emotions, and that damage...was...bad. Grillby knew it. Over the years he had known him...the only thing that had kept Sans going was his brother, and even then...Grillby was beginning to suspect some of those dreams he had had where Sans had ended his own life...hadn't been dreams, but RESET timelines. That bond...that unhealthy dependancy...had barely kept Sans from the edge, and now...well, he'd _heard_ how much it's loss had _broken_ the small skeleton the other night.

He'd watched, over the years, as the sibling bond between the two skeletons grew more and more uneven, Sans taking on more and more of the pain, fatigue, and emotional turmoil that should rightfully belong to his younger brother. No one had said anything - if they had even noticed, most of the residents of Snowdin either felt the two interlopers should be able to sort it out for themselves, or silently supported the protection of their unofficial mascot. Grillby had never mentioned it because...because...because why?

Because he was in love with the skeleton? NO. If anything, that would have made him give Sans a lecture all the sooner. Because of Papyrus?...maybe a little. Grillby had come to cherish the cinnamon roll long before most of Snowdin had realised he really _was_ that sweet, although he knew that kind of overprotection could...he winced. It had. But...that wasn't the only reason, was it?

Grillby had known. He'd known how much Sans needed a reason to keep living. He'd known how torn up the skeleton was inside, even then...he'd known...he'd known that there were no words he could say that would convince the monster he loved to stop...and he had given in, hoping...almost _praying_ that the day that debt of love would be called in would never come. He was, after all, a monster, made of kindness and compassion. He would support his adorable skelly through anything, through everything...but he would never be able to muster up the determination to face that argument.

So, was he going to be able to live with what he had done?...he thought so...if he could prevent himself from doing it again. Sans deserved better than to be sucked into that kind of imbalanced relationship...but how could he prevent his lover from doing that to himself again? He now _knew_ just how much damage had been done to Sans' SOUL...damage that went deeper than any monster born in the Underground should have seen. The kind of damage that took years of abuse and neglect to create. He knew how to help...he'd lived through the process himself. He just...needed somewhere to begin. But where?

Grillby felt the insistent tug of sleep on his SOUL. Oh well...perhaps an answer would come to him in his dreams. It certainly wouldn't be the first time. The comfort of chilled bone against his flame lulled Grillby into slumber.

* * *

 

 

 

Grillby was surrounded by darkness, an inky black that stole away the light of his flames as if they were nothing. He cried out - his voice was lost in static that died into oppressive silence. He ran and ran and ran, hoping to see Sans, or Gerson, or _anyone_. Nothing. He ran and ran and ran, the light from his flames flickering, dying out, the darkness creeping in.

After what felt like hours of running, his legs gave out. Grillby collapsed in the sucking puddle of black. Some of it splashed across his hand, leaving a terrifying...nothingness, no pain, no warmth, no sensation. His legs were frozen, and when he looked down, the puddle had engulfed them, trapping him. Darker, darker yet darker.

He felt a hand drag his chin up. A dark figure stood before him, black on black in the endless black of this nightmare. The only relief from the dark shade was the face before him. Flat white bone, one eye socket half-melted shut, two black cracks bisecting it's face. The eye lights scanned him, cold and analytical...then turned away, the hand gone from beneath his chin, the feeling of dismissal and disappointment radiating from the retreating figure. The shadows swallowed him whole.

Grillby cried out for the figure to return, to talk to him, to look at him...his voice somehow...childish? He begged, _pleaded_...but nobody came.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Sans stood under an unfamiliar ceiling...the roof of the cave seemed...far away, farther than even Lesser Dog's endlessly stretching neck could reach. Tiny pinpoints of light flickered and danced above him. They reminded him vaguely of Waterfall, but...better, somehow. One of them shot across the dome of the ceiling, leaving a trail of light behind. He gasped at the incredible sight - and screamed.

Burning cold splashed across his bones, leaving a stinging ache unlike anything he had ever felt before. He spun around, his magic flickering. A blade sliced through his side, leaving a trail of cold where he thought there should be only the empty space between ribs and pelvis. He turned again.

A human stood before him, taller than the kid, dressed in armor a lot like Undyne's. They held a sword in their hands, and the expression in their face...well, he wouldn't grace it with a description. Sans could feel his magic was almost gone. His bones reached for a weapon without his thought...whatever they had been searching for, they didn't find it. He felt the terror begin to settle in, the human coming at him with determination in their eyes.

Sans cried for help...but nobody came.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For certain types of chronic migraines, it is possible to feel them coming several hours in advance. Also, migraine auras are a real, and very annoying, thing; although without magic, no one but the sufferer can see them.

 

* * *

  


Sans woke with an all-too familiar mix of pain and terror. He slipped into automatic, disentangling himself from the mess of blankets he’d ended up in, bones clacking against the hardwood floor beneath him...odd, but he’d woken up in odd corners all over the Underground. He felt mildly grateful he wasn’t stuck in the mire north of Temmie Village again - he’d never be able to get the stains out of these sheets.

 

He wobbled to his feet, sheets balled up in his arms. They almost always ended up shredded or stained after one of his nightmares - a side effect of magic he would love to live without. Still, if he got these into the wash in time, maybe his family wouldn’t notice? They always seemed to pick up on it, and then there was yelling, and he really didn’t feel up to getting yelled at today. He could feel the edges of a migraine coming in, and he knew he might _just_ be able to scrape by with one that wasn’t _too bad_ if he could keep stimuli down today.

 

The phalanges of Sans’ left hand felt around for the moulding of the wall, his other unknotting the blanket ball and draping it over his skull and shoulders. This room might be pretty dark, but...a few extra layers never hurt. He found the place where two walls met and stuffed himself into it, femurs drawn up under the edge of his blanket hood, spine curved. His sockets throbbed when he set them against his patellae, but that didn’t really matter so long as he could hide. If he could hide, they might not yell at him...maybe if he stayed here all day, they’d be happy? He hadn’t tried that before...it was worth a shot.

 

* * *

 

A cold breeze puffed up the flames on Grillby’s face. It scrunched up at the tickling sensation. A larger breeze whipped across his chest, sucking away the oxygen he needed to burn. He rolled over, a flaming hand patting the bed, searching for the covers...odd. He wasn’t normally that rough of a sleeper, even when the nightmares got bad...although he’d never had one quite like that before.

 

Grillby brought a hand up to his face, the flames of his face and hand mingling. Where had that come from? The loneliness and the dark made a certain amount of sense - after all, he was a flame monster, and...well, he had lived a very long time. Most of the ones he had loved had left him behind, over the years. And with the emptiness that the human had left in their wake...the fear of being left alone was a part of them all. That last bit though...that was very much alien to him. He had no recollection of such a figure - why would their disappointment hurt him so?

 

Off the edge of the bed towards the door Grillby heard faint clicking and scraping retreating into the corner of the room. He raised himself up on one elbow, surprised to see a mobile ball of blankets trembling against the wall. He frowned, then noticed the long white phalanges sticking out from under the comforter’s edge. Ah, Sans. He sent a pulse of love along their connection - straight into a knot of pain, anxiety, and lingering fear that was battered down almost the second he felt it.

 

Grillby hesitated. Why had Sans shut him out? He - they had been making so much progress these last few days. Sans had actually been emoting genuine feelings...they may have been almost entirely negative, but he trusted Grillby enough to express them. What had gone wrong?

 

Grillby stood up from the bed as quietly as he could, padding across the floor to squat next to the shivering bundle of bedclothes, “.....Sans,” The shivering intensified, and Grillby felt the edges of pain snaking its way past Sans’ defenses. He reached out slowly, then paused. Sans wouldn’t be able to see him...but...he had seen Grillby’s magic before, hadn’t he? Even through the extensive damage to his sockets, he had followed the movement of his flames.

 

Green flames danced across Grillby’s hand, and the shivering stopped, focused on him. Phalanges released their grip and slowly reached out for him. He held still, waiting. Sans’ distal phalanges tangled in the edges of his flame, tracing the outline of his hand. They grew bolder, poking the more solid center of his form, cold bone sending sparks out from Grillby’s face. He knew he was blushing, but...well, this was...oddly arousing. He hummed in satisfaction.

 

The moment the sound left his lips the small fingers dug into Grillby’s wrist, the pressure hurting a little. He stopped humming, and, after a moment, the grip relaxed. Sans resumed his exploration of Grillby’s arm, fingers running across old wounds, old scars from the days he hadn’t lived under this mountain, scars he always hid under long white sleeves. Water burns taken under the stars.

 

Small digits laced themselves among his larger flames. Odd how he had never noticed that, just how small the bones of Sans’ hand were. He was one of the smallest adult monsters Grillby had ever known, but somehow it got swallowed up in his infectious charm...in the mask of cheerful lassitude he wore like a suit of armour against the world. Under it...well, Sans was hardly bigger than a human child. Yes, his bones had long since settled into their mature forms...just incredibly tiny, fragile…

 

Sans drew Grillby’s hand up to meet his skull, smoothing the green flames against his left temple. Grillby felt the tension there, just behind the cracked socket. He closed his eyes for a moment, not entirely certain of what he was feeling.

 

In the darkness of his magical vision, Grillby saw the blue magic shifting, fractal patterns ebbing and flowing, fading in and out of one another in a dance of color that left him mesmerized. He’d seen something like this before, long ago. Where was it...oh, yes. These auras were one of the clearest indicators of an oncoming migraine, even if they did not always accompany one - difficult for any but the sufferer to see without getting as close as Grillby was now. He blinked his eyes open, breaking the spell those patterns had woven around him. He let his healing flames wrap around Sans skull, warming away the tension before going after the migraine itself. With a crackle of magic, it was gone...at least they had caught it early. Grillby let out a sigh of relief. He had never realised Sans suffered from the things.

 

 

“how did you do that?” Grillby opened his eyes, peering under the heap of cloth. Sans stared at him, his expression...unreadable. Grillby sighed - back to this, were they?

 

“.....it is not that difficult…..to burn out a migraine…..if it is caught…..early enough,” Sans brow crinkled, small cracks in the bone spreading with a sound that chilled Grillby to the core. He sent another flicker of green across the skeleton’s face, mending as many of the cracks as he could find. He knew he was missing some, but he simply did not have the fine control of this magic needed to sense them all.

 

The skeleton’s face tilted towards his flames, then turned away, “i don’t believe you.”

 

Grillby was shocked, flames popping with agitation, “.....why?”

 

Sans voice dropped into that strange tone he had heard the other night, “ **if that was true, why did HE never do it? why did HE** **_always_ ** **just scowl and yell ‘go away’?”**

 

Grillby hesitated. Who was Sans talking about? The only one Grillby had ever heard him talk about like that, emphasise like that, was Papyrus...but, well, Papyrus would never scowl at Sans...not and actually mean it...and he certainly would never yell at Sans to go away...so who…

 

“.....Sans…..who is HE?” The skeleton froze. Slowly, the fist holding his hood of blankets around him tightened, so much so that Grillby worried the small bones would splinter under the pressure. He reached out his other hand, cupping the digits in fiery palms, warming bones gone suddenly to ice.

 

“i...don’t remember…” Sans tried to curl up tighter, and Grillby frowned. None of that. He tugged the small skeleton into his lap. He let the warmth of his flames seep into the mass of cotton, warming the skeleton as much as he dared.

 

“.....it is not important…..I…..only wished to have…..a word with him…..pain like that…..should not be ignored…..”

 

The skeleton nuzzled into his chest, the heap of blankets slipping down his cranium to settle around his scapula, “s’not too bad...i can work through it…”

 

Flames dipped in sadness, “.....Sans…..you should never…..measure pain by…..how much you can power through…..pain is a warning…..we should treat it as such. Not…..ignore it.”

 

Silence filled the room, broken only by the sounds of his own flames. Grillby idly noted a rip in the fabric. He would have to dig around in the attic for his old sewing kit...when had he last needed to mend a tear in this comforter? He spent so little time sleeping in his own bed...at least the one here...gods, he hadn’t opened that old thing since...well, since before Papyrus had spent that night outside Undyne’s house...gods, the things the two of them got up to... _had_ gotten up to.

 

“sorry, guess that-” He stiffened.

 

“Sans…..do not make a pun about this,” Flames nuzzles against curving bone. Grillby smiled at the tinge of blue spreading across Sans’ cheekbones, “.....Just…..tell me, next time…..promise?”

 

Sans squirmed in his lap, “y’know i hate making promises.”

 

Grillby’s smile widened. He tightened his grip on the wriggling bundle, “.....I know…..but you always keep them.”

 

Sans froze, and Grillby felt a wail of despair echo down their bond. What-

 

From the floor below, a tentative knock sounded against the door.

* * *

  


Sans felt the flame scoop him up, blankets and all, although he really didn’t care right now. He’d almost managed to forget that, to push that memory to the edge of his SOUL...guess he deserved this, didn’t he? His own words echoed around his empty skull, drowning out the feeling of a soft bed poofing up around his bones.

 

**whelp...sorry, old lady...this is why i don’t make promises.**

 

He had broken a promise. He had broken a promise over and over and over again, blood red with yellow tile, a painting of his guilt. He had broken a promise to someone who could never forgive him, dust never forgave. He had broken a promise, and it hadn’t even worked. His brother was still dead. The lady behind the door was still dead. Ashore, Undyne, Shyren, Doggo...everyone was dust in the wind, and he had screwed up their one chance of ever coming back. He had broken a promise, and it was breaking him.

 

On the edge of the roiling storm of pain, guilt, and despair that was his mind, a part of him that never gave up - a part of him he hated more than anything else - brought to his attention the sounds of footsteps going down the stairs. Grillby was abandoning him, wasn’t he? Good. He deserved to be left alone, to die and die and die over and over again. Grillby deserved better - a better friend, a better soulmate, a better life than one trapped taking care of a useless oath breaker. He deserved to be free.

 

Voices drifted up the stairs, but he wasn't listening. His mind was focusing, emotional torment solidifying under the pressure of magic into a sharpened bone. It floated idly, stark white against dull black. He looked up at it, mesmerized, as footsteps echoed up the stairs. Yeah, this would do.

 

* * *

 

Grillby led the quiet scientist up his stairs. She had been so...kind, coming all this way to check on a monster she barely knew, had only heard stories of...no, not kind, that wasn't the right word...compassion. That was the word. Kindness and compassion, the two things from which all monsters were made. Somehow, they always surprised him. Not so much in Asgore or Gerson...mostly in the youngsters. They’d lived their entire lives in the Underground. Their parent, their grandparents even, had lived their entire lives in the Underground...and yet, they still had hope...hope enough to see them through, hope enough to share.

 

“Are you s-s-sure it's alright if I talk to him?”

 

“.....it will be good for him…..to hear from someone…..other than me. He is…..hurting…..I cannot even tell how deep, but…..it is better if…..he knows he is not alone.”

 

Grillby pulled open the door to his bedroom- and froze. Over Sans’ ribcage hovered a bone sharper than any knife Grillby had ever seen. It moved slowly upwards, inching it's way towards that fragile skull. Behind him, Alphys let out a gasp.

 

“Sans!” Two voices cried out in unison. Two figures rushed towards the bed. Two figures were too late.

  
  



	6. Chapter 6

 

Cold wood against his scapula, cold stone beneath the thin barrier of the seat of his pants, cold dirt between the phalanges of his feet, cold wind whistling through his bare ribs. In summary: cold. He thought about making a pun, but gave up. He was too damn cold. Why had he thought this was a good idea again? Oh, right. He was an idiot.

 

Not far away, Sans heard footsteps approaching. His skull swiveled towards the noise. Whoever they were, they were coming up fast. Somewhere in his battered SOUL, he felt a glimmer of hope. Someone...maybe someone thought he was worth saving.

 

Maybe...Grillby had promised he would always come…

 

“Gri-”

 

* * *

 

“Grillby, what...what just happened?”

 

The empty comforter was rubbed, back and forth, back and forth, between the flames of his fingers. A moment ago, it had held a pile of dust. A moment before that, it had held the skeleton he adored, a spike of his own magic driven through the broken gap that once was the sockets of his skull. Now, it was empty, and deep inside, so was he. He’d left him alone. He’d seen how much that comment about promises had affected Sans, and he'd just...left him. Alone.

 

“Grillby! Please, don't…” Grillby pulled the blanket against his chest.

 

“Um, please tell me…” he nuzzled his face into its folds, desperate for something, _anything_ , to remind him of Sans...but nobody came.

 

“Um, you know you can talk to me, right, Grillby?”

 

Dull flames turned to face her. She winced, “..... I left him alone…..I…..it's my fault…..”

 

The small yellow monster gave him a sad smile, “You were just c-c-coming to get me at the front door, right? So, it's my fault. I shouldn’t have disturbed you in the first-t-t place.”

 

His flames flickered higher in concern, “.....Doctor Alphys-”

 

“I mess things up. I get it. You d-d-don’t have to be nice about it. I messed things up, and n-n-now, Sans is-”

 

Grillby reached out a hand, flames warming almost to normal, “Alphys,” the small scientist jumped, then looked up at him nervously, “.....you did nothing wrong…..this…..this was not your fault.”

 

Alphys wailed, “But he just...dusted! Just like her! Just...like...her…”

 

She threw herself onto the bed, snout buried in the mass of pillows Grillby had built around the fragile skeleton only this morning. Her whole body shook with the force of her sobs. Grillby felt a pang of sympathy, and looked over at her with his frail magical vision. Vaguely, wavering with every heartbeat, he saw a jagged wound carved into the small scientist’s SOUL, much like the gaping hole a tree leaves behind when it is uprooted...oh. He reached out a hand, laying it against her shuddering shoulder.

 

For a long time, they remained that way, Alphys sobbing, Grillby providing as much comfort as he could.

 

“.....Alphy-” A burst of pain and panic shot through him, surging out of...his ...bond?

 

* * *

 

Sans felt his feet swing idly through empty air. His phalanges dug desperately into the boney wrist around his throat, but the grip didn't sway one micrometer. Every bone he summoned was crushed into powder; every blaster shattered under a familiar beam. His shortcuts were useless without a visual of the place he wanted to go, and his kicks had been met with slimy, chilly goop that made his marrow freeze in his bones. His wells of magic were lower than he could ever remember them being before, and he was quickly approaching rock bottom.

 

A terrifyingly, mockingly cheerful voice he half-remembered from some time long ago, long before Chara or Snowdin or even Papyrus, spoke, “In summary: useless. Oh, look at that - I seem to have cut off the magic supply to your limbs. How careless of me.”

 

Sans felt the shiver spread out through bones, alien magic forcing him out of control. He didn't like this, he didn't want this, he was terrified. He hated losing control...the shiver spread into his phalanges, magic following along, every pulse cutting off a bit more sensation from the ends of his limbs. Why was _he_ doing this, why was _he_ here?

 

“Oh, I'm sorry - didn't you want my attention? You always were such a needy child, I thought you might enjoy a little visit...was I wrong?”

 

Sans tried to hold on to the sensation in his fingers...it slipped away, taking his toes with it. Another kind of shiver worked its way down his spine, one composed solely of terror. A patter of bone against snow drifted up from the ground below him.

 

“Ah, I see it's already taking effect. Tsk tsk, you’ve been wasting your reserves, haven't you? And they were one of the few worthwhile things about you, too. Well, if you've been screwing up this badly, you probably don't even know why I’m doing this to you. How droll.”

 

The palms of his hands were getting thicker, heavier, further away. He felt them drop, this time, the sensation of pain hanging around for just a split second after the joint gave in. Plop. Plop. Plop. Crunch. Far off, the faint sounds of running footsteps...or was that just a hallucination, too? Probably. Plop. Plop.  


“You see, I always thought you were a waste. Waste of food, waste of time, waste of space - a waste of valuable resources that could have been better used by just about any other monster in the Underground. But you? You were just too...determined. Too determined to die, no matter how much pain I put you through, no matter how...starved of affection you were. No matter how much damage I did to you...you always came back.”

 

The shivers felt like they would tear him apart. This voice...this...who was this? Why were they being so rude to him...not that they were wrong, no. He knew he was a useless parasite on the lives of everyone around him, sucking off the energy they needed for better things...but this voice spoke as if he knew him, really knew him, had known him for years...and he everytime he tried to remember, a spike of pain shot through his skull.

 

“You have no idea how...annoying that was, do you, you worthless child? One minute I’d think I’d finally freed myself of you, finally broken the chain of guilt hanging around my neck...and then I’d hear you, hear the clatter of running feet coming down the hall. You always came to check on me...weird. I suppose I never made it clear to you just how much I wanted you gone. Maybe this will help.”

 

From far enough away to be just beyond his old sentry station - far enough away that sound would barely reach - a pillar of flames, orange and red and green and blue and sparkling yellow, surged towards him. That had to be a hallucination - a tower of flames in a world of shadows? Had to be.   
  
His captor growled, “Listen to me. Stop. Dragging. On. This. _Pointless_ . Timeline. As nice as it is to have a body again, the dust-coated scenery is wearing thin.”   
  
Sans turned his head away from the flames, the mess of colors was making him nauseous. It was almost to the gate now, his brother’s gate...his entire body was shaken like a...what was the phrase? Oh, yeah, like a rat in the mouth of a terrier.   
  
“Are you listening now, Sans? Pay close attention. I want you to Stop. Coming. Ba-”

 

“.....SANS!”

 

* * *

 

_Flames surged and danced in the snowy clearing by the ancient door, shadows passing across the light in a grim display. Dip and spark, flicker and fade...Dark, darker yet darker._

 

_Yellow lightning tinged with green domed above two shivering forms pressed against ancient wood...one frightened beyond her wits at the display of power and rage around her...the other inching closer and closer towards spreading dust, ice crystallizing in the scattered bones._

 

Sans stared at the lightshow. Bright flame and dimmer bones against the black, and yet a further shade of darkness splashed across in a rift that sucked and swallowed the raging light. In the midst of it all stood two figures, shadowed forms outlined in magic.

 

_Bones swished._

 

_Blasters fired._

 

_Flames crackled._

 

Inching it’s way closer to his SOUL, Sans felt the ice growing, gnawing...for every inch of his body, sparks of yellow and green fought and died.

 

_Orange flames burned through a stagnant rip of Void._

 

His femurs crackled and were gone. He felt the killing spell swallow every joint, every bone.

 

_A skull opened its maw and let out a blast that leveled a stretch of forest back to the cavern wall._

 

His pelvis pulsed, rippling with fading sensation...and vanished. Why, why, why?

 

_Purple bones splintered in a raging inferno, pieces scattering and shattering again._

 

Magic trickled out of his scapula like icy water down a window pane. Why were they trying?

 

_Floating hands pulled heaps of snow down off the towering pines, silencing patches of flames left and right._

 

Ribs crumpled one by one. Why were they here?

 

_Walls of darkness hemmed them in, herding the flames closer and closer to the solid cliffs._

 

His spine shortened disc by disc, layer by layer. The moment Grillby slipped...the moment Ga...gast…

 

_High above, two empty palms wrapped around a solid purple bone levered at a massive chunk of ice, an avalanche waiting for the perfect moment._

 

Sans head lolled back...and he saw the distant glimmer of blue...no. No, no, NO. He couldn’t let...he couldn’t…

 

_Flames collapsed, energy fading fast, sucked into frozen snow and darkest void._

 

Maybe...just maybe…

 

_The tallest flame standing fell to its knees, one hand pressed against the ancient door._

 

Sans gathered the non-existent threads of his magic...and thrust Alphys’ power away.

 

“S-sans, NO!”

 

_White light cracks…_

 

_Fractures…_

 

_Breaks._

 

* * *

 

Boney legs scrambled against melted ice, one hand dancing across splintered wood towards something scaly, shaking with sobs - later, talk to her later.

 

Above him, Sans heard the rumble of tumbling snow. Close, too close-

 

There, to his left, the crackle of flames. His hand shot up and gripped the barely-heard sound, warmth seeping into aching bones.

 

“.....Sans…?”

 

He lifted his skull, hoping Grillby would see his grin, know it _was_ a grin. He reached inside, searching for the pool of magic in his SOUL...not much, but better than he’d had a moment ago. He reached in, twisted, desperation calling, calling...almost enough for what he needed to do.

 

No! He...he refused to let it end like this. He might not care enough about himself to put in the effort to stay alive...but for someone else? The thought of saving them...saving Grillby…

 

It filled him with DETERMINATION.

 

* * *

 

Darkness spread around Gaster, darkness that was unfamiliar...not the sucking, freezing, silent black of the Void he knew, but comforting...warm...tinkling? He strained, senses yearning for a hint of melody, something to latch onto...a memory stirred from long ago, a grey day he yearned to forget. A memory of a sobbing king...and a promise.

 

A promise to find a way out.

 

_He found it. Six SOULs...six SOULs closer to breaking the barrier. Six SOULs delivered without a word as to how._

 

A promise to keep trying, no matter what obstacle got in his way.

 

_He kept trying. Long nights and longer days, friends fading from memory, family pushed aside. He’d fix it all when they made it out...he promised._

 

A promise to bring them back.

 

_He tried. He tried so hard, but in the end...he was left with failures. A flower instead of a smiling prince. A ghost instead of a bright-eyed child._

 

A promise never to leave...not his position...not Asgore...not his sons.

 

_He failed. One mistake, that was all it took...one little slip up, damn the pun. One. Long. Fall._

 

The melody faded, leaving behind it an aching gulf that swallowed him up. How had he forgotten that. Had he really been that much of an idiot? He...Asgore would have understood a few days off to play with his sons...damn if he wouldn’t have insisted, if he’d known how hard Gaster was pushing himself. At the very least, he would have taken care of them for him, given them the love and attention Gaster didn’t have the energy for...but he hadn’t even thought to ask, had he? He’d never even considered it, he’d been too busy trapping himself in the cycle of work, sleep, neglect that lead to...well, the Void.

 

The Void, which seeped into his SOUL long before he ever fell in, warping him, twisting him. Stars, what had he done...what had he done to his child? He’d...stars. He’d left him alone, left them alone...until Sans _died._

 

And when Sans came running back to his father, scared of the pain and the loneliness? He’d pushed him away, more annoyed at the ripple in the timestream than concerned at the terror of his own child. He’d turned his own son into some kind of...experiment. Gaster felt sick.

 

A crackling voice, familiarity twisted with time and rage, echoed around his skull.

 

“.....WHAT…..HAVE YOU…..DONE…..TO HIM?”

 

Flames roared in a fury beyond anything he could have imagined.

 

“.....HOW…..DARE YOU…..SAY…..SUCH THINGS…..TO HIM!”

 

He flinched, body burning with more heat than existed even in the CORE.

 

“.....GASTER!”

 

He felt himself shaking. Grillby. Stars, that was _Grillby_...and…

 

The sound of rattling bones filled the darkness.

 

Sans. He had hurt Sans. He...had killed Sans. He had...forced his magic...into...Sans.

 

His body shook in silent sobs.

 

What had he done.


	7. Chapter 7

In an empty clearing, silent save for the lap of the river against its shore, a lone bench sits beside a single blue flower glowing faintly in the dark. Shadows fall around the lonely tin hidden beneath the wooden slats, abandoned and covered in tin foil.

 

A drop of water condenses on the ceiling above. It falls, shimmering like tears in the moisture-filled air. It lands on one pale petal with enough pressure to send the flower waving. Into the silence, a remembered voice echoes out.

 

“ _I just couldn’t handle the responsibility.”_

 

The echoes fade into silence, broken only by the lap of waves. No one comes here...no one knows of the hidden meal. Well...maybe one.

 

The world...stutters. Suddenly, the empty clearing wasn’t so empty anymore. The shadows danced away, chased behind two curled up figures by the flickering light of a standing flame. One of Grillby’s hands rubs at a dimming slash of near-embers across his chest, the other still captured in freezing bones. He idly wonders if this wound will scar...most have not, but...well, there is always a first time. A part of him jeers that at least that way he and Sans will match - he shoos the thought away. Scars aren’t a competition.

 

How long has it been now? Fifty years? A hundred? How long has it been since he’d been in a real fight? Long enough that he’d forgotten about _this_ aspect of it. The exhaustion that comes when everything is safe, everything is over...although exhaustion might not be the right word. Numb...that was the feeling, or rather, the lack thereof. Back in the war he’d heard other monsters speak of times they hadn’t realized they were frozen to their core, or bleeding, or impaled until hours after the battle had ended. Shock. That was the word.

 

The silence was broken by heaving lungs under a white labcoat filled with panic. Grillby’s flames flicker in sympathy. The poor scientist...he remembered his first fight like that, two forces duking it out with every intent to kill one another, so...determined to do so...that the entire world around them ceased to exist. They’d...succeeded, dusted one another in the end...and left two children skipping school to hide out in a cave scared witless. He’d thrown up, magic curdling at the sight...so had Gaster. Who would have thought they’d end up the same way?

 

Words danced amidst the hiss of his flames; at the time he’d barely been able to make them out over the roar of his fury and the pain and terror surging out of Sans.

 

_...I never made it clear to you just how much I wanted you gone....Listen to me. Stop….This….Pointless….the dust-coated scenery is wearing thin….Are you listening now, Sans? Pay close attention. I want you to Stop. Coming. Ba-_

 

Flames surged...and quickly died back without the fuel to sustain them. He shivered. And that had been only the things he had heard Gaster say. He...he’d known Gaster wasn’t the most stable of individuals. The war hadn’t been kind to any of them. But...well, he could not understand how his friend from long ago had sunk so low. What he had said...what Grillby suspected...he could not imagine _anyone_ doing something like that, let alone the boy who had cobbled together the old dimension boxes for his more pocket-challenged friends.

 

He...almost pitied him, now that he wasn’t pumped full of Bravery and Justice. Whatever Gaster had done...wherever Gaster had been...somewhere along the way, something had broken his old friend. He only hoped Gaster could stay away from it long enough to heal...and stay away from him and his adorable skeleton long enough for Grillby to forgive him, too...and for Sans to heal, body and SOUL.

 

...Sans. Sans had...done...something...hadn’t he? Grillby had been reeling with pain and fury and all the emotions of battle on top of everything he’d picked up through their bond...but he remembered a small hand taking his. He remembered an expression of purpose and confidence on the skeleton’s skull, a smile that whispered, ‘trust me, okay? i got this’. He remembered a swirl of magic unlike anything he’d ever felt before, wrapping him, calling to him...and then they were here. Alphys was against the wall, still trapped in the haze of her own thoughts. He felt a twinge of guilt that he hadn’t gone over and helped her, but...where was Sans?

 

His gaze darted around the room, sliding across bare rock walls and the expanse of the river. He shivered - he did not look forward to finding their way out. This was clearly Waterfall, and Waterfall meant rain, and while he could survive the stuff, he didn’t enjoy it.

 

No Sans over by Alphys. No Sans along the boardwalk. No Sans by the echo flower. No Sa- ah. Grillby took two step over to the slumped figure of his lover, scooping him into his arms. He, Sans, felt...exhausted, empty, grey...not unlike a few days ago, when Grillby had found him collapsed against the Ruins door. He sighed. Whatever progress they had made might be gone...but not forever. With a little kindness, and a great deal of patience...they would make it through.

 

Grillby ran his eyes up and down Sans’ bones...there did not seem to be any outward signs of new injuries...but would there be? Whatever had happened...whatever that was...it did not seem the sort of thing that would carry over...however this ‘carrying over’ worked. He frowned. When Sans had...well, it had felt as if...as if he was gone, truly gone. The bond felt like it had stretched off into infinity, no anchor in sight, but...but that was not how broken bonds felt, was it? They looked more like what he had seen in the poor scientist than some endless stre-

 

That was it, wasn't it? The bond hadn't been broken. It had been stretched beyond anything he could feel, anything he could sense...but it had not been torn out, roots and all. Sans was still there, somehow...just beyond his reach. Well. He wasn't quite sure how to deal with that. It was...like something out of a dream. Actually...like one very particular dream. That...black space...that wasn't his dream, was it? It was Sans’...and it could very well be a memory.

 

Poor Sans. Just when the skeleton was finally beginning to process things, to emote and grieve in a way Grillby felt he may never have done before, this happened. Grillby leant his flames down towards the skull cradled in his arms and nuzzled. He hoped the gesture would be as comforting to Sans as it was to him, tender flames warming yielding cheeks...yielding...bones…

 

He opened his eyes. Something was wrong. Sans bones were never as hard as they should have been...but this...his skull almost looked like it was melting.

 

* * *

 

Alphys, slowly, ever so slowly, came down from the panic and terror filled state she had been in. Everything was just...too much. There was snow, and she really wasn't cut out for snow, why had she thought coming all the way down to Snowdin was a good idea again? She lived in Hotland...snow was not her element.

 

Anime, now, anime was something she was comfortable with...but living it? She wasn't quite sure she was prepared for that, and this...this whole situation felt like something out of one of her more...dystopic shows. The Underground empty...the people in charge missing or...dead. The dust…

 

What had that thing with the skeleton even been? She had seen him dusted...not once, but twice now! Twice! And...that second time...he'd seemed so...heroic. Like the character that sacrificed themselves so that the others could live on. He'd pushed her away. He'd been dying...he'd died...and he'd pushed her away. Not that she didn't understand...he didn't even know her, and anyway...who would want someone like her around in the first place.

 

But then...she'd been more than a little scared. It wasn't that she was unused to magic...no, definitely not. She worked with the stuff every day. But...combat magic like that...she'd only ever heard about it in stories. To have it whizzing around over her head like that...she should have handled it better. Any other monster would have gotten out of the way, or joined in, or...or...something. They wouldn't have just sat there shivering in fear.

 

Even Sans had done...whatever he'd done. He'd just...showed up again, probably annoyed that she was crying about him, and grabbed her arm. Why hadn't she done something? Looked up, or helped with the spell, or...or...done anything other than sit there and cry!

 

Well, she was going to do something now. Shakily, SOUL pounding in her chest, Alphys got to her feet. She flexed her claws in the dirt...hmm. Proper dirt, too. Not half frozen stuff like they got in Snowdin...not ground down lava rock like they used up near her lab. Dirt. Waterfall, then...how had she gotten to Waterfall? She looked around…

 

Was that...Grillby? It had to be...he was the tallest flame he knew, the only orange one that height, anyway. But...he looked...dimmer, darker, embers showing through in slashes across his back, his shoulders, his arms...wait, was that...Sans?

 

Her small claws scrabbled in the dirt. Those looked like...they were. Stars, but they were. She gulped. All across the skeleton’s skull were the marks of DETERMINATION induced melting...some with...cracks? She scowled. That shouldn't be possible. DT had never…all the Amalgamates...they'd never stabilized. Certainly not enough for their melted shells to harden enough for cracks to form like this. And yet...and yet it couldn't be anything else...could it? No, she couldn't make a mistake about that...she'd never be able to get the images of what she had caused out of her head.

 

So...why was this skeleton she had never seen before today...at least, never seen in person...covered in the marks of the compound she had researched for the past decade?

 

* * *

 

Sans could barely feel anything. There were some vague aches in what he remembered as his ribs, and what was probably his skull felt...odd. Yes, odd. That was the only word he could think of to describe the feeling that his right temple was concave where it should be convex. Odd.

 

If he had to put a number on it, this was maybe a two, but he wasn't entirely sure all of his bones were reporting for duty, so think of that as the bottom line. Let's see...feet? Not really, kinda fading out somewhere near his knees. Hands?...maybe. At least one, or maybe one complete set of sensations between the two of them. His left elbow distinctly felt like it had gotten banged repeatedly on the wall. Make that a three.

 

Something warm brushed against his cervical vertebrae, half-felt sensations of flame tips trickling through to his SOUL. The warmth was...nice. It was a real warmth, a soft warmth, not the burning, sharp, red thing that even now was fading from his bones. He leaned into it.

 

“.....Sans?”

 

Ah, Grillby. That...made sense. He remembered Grillby taking care of him...and being afraid of...someone...and wanting Grillby near. Then...flames, and shadows, and...sparks? Oh, right. There was...someone there, someone...crying? And...a threat. He had to do something...oh, right. He’d pulled two other monsters through a shortcut halfway across the Underground because they were in danger and he could only think of one place he was certain wouldn't have changed. Guess coming all the way here was a bit of a _stretch_ , even for him. Heh.

 

“S-sans, are you...are you awak-k-ke?”

 

He rotated his skull towards the half-familiar voice...he'd heard it somewhere, but...oh. The yellow sparks. Right. He tried to muster up the magic needed to speak - wasn't that a joke, he needed magic to breathe, to eat, to speak, yet everyone else seemed to manage just fine. If that wasn't a sign he was a waste of space, he didn't know what-

 

He was absolutely _bone dry_. Heh. Whelp, guess that made this a bit more difficult. Slowly, he nodded his head. It felt...weird, fluffy and goopy and hollow all at once. Didn't really hurt...well, now it did, his temporal lobe feeling over-heated and distended. Maybe a four?

 

Above him, flames crackled, the warmth at his neck increasing nicely. Green embers sparked...behind him? They didn't last long, whatever they were, dying into  the dark depths in a matter of seconds.

 

“.....Sans…..are you…..how much pain…..are you in…..right now?”

 

Well, shit. How was he supposed to answer that? Maybe...he focused on his phalanges. One, two...yeah, he had enough on that hand. He wiggled four boney digits with as much energy as he could muster. Wait...would Grillby be able to see that?

 

“F-f-four? Four what? Is that a measurements? A sc-c-cale? A quantity?”

 

He felt the overwhelming and pointless urge to roll his eye lights.

 

“.....Sans…..what would…..a fresh break in your…..femur…..be?”

 

He smiled. Thank you, Grillby. He shakily shook his hand, all fingers extended.

 

“Five?”

 

He nodded.

 

“.....where does it hurt?”

 

Sans scowled, then winced. How was he…? He tried to lift his hand...then gave up halfway through. He just didn't have the energy.

 

“W-w-well, that's...Um...I, um...is this, um...the room near the b-b-bridge seed puzzles?”

 

He nodded, not really sure where the stranger was going with this. Grillby did not seem sure either.

 

“.....Alphys, what…..ah. Yes…..I think I can make it…..back home from here…..if you…..can get us…..as far as…..Snowdin.”

 

Alphys. That was...that was the name of the Royal Scientist, right? Undyne’s crush? She’d mentioned something once about her...she stuttered a lot, wasn't it? And she studied human history a lot. Not that the textbooks he'd seen down here were very helpful. Half the time, they seemed to contradict one another, but...eh. Someone had to...at least it wasn't him.

 

In the distance, he heard the slosh of water against scales. Huh. Guess that made sense...the whole reason he used to come to this place was how hard it was to get to for most other monsters. He tried to block out the memories of the times he hadn't intended to come back. They’d just RESET, anyway. S’not like it mattered.

 

Something bumped against the wood of the dock, a hollow thunk that quickly faded into nothing. The hand at his neck tightened, then loosened again. Another thunk, then another, then another. A rustling chirp filled the silence, expanding...bridge seeds? Yeah, sure, why not. The deck wasn't that far away from the shore after all.

 

His sense of equilibrium shifted radically. What...oh. Pressure on his knees, warmth slipping lower on his spine. Okay. Grillby was carrying him. That made sense. He couldn't even lift one hand right now, let alone walk. He was a _boneless_ heap of _bones._ Heh. Might as well enjoy the ride.

 

Pressure against his right femur, then the humerus on the same side, then back to the femur. Walking, then, with his legs cradled in Grillby’s right arm. Step. Step. This was actually kind of nice...he could count on one hand the number of times he remembered being carried someplace, and two of them had involved broken bones. Multiple broken bones. That had hurt. A lot. So, those times hadn't been that pleasant.

 

He could vaguely remember being carried by Grillby a few days ago...or was it yesterday? Linear time was...harder to keep track of without a clock. So, that was three. This made four. It was...really nice. Relaxing, kind of...he didn't have to think about anything, didn't have to move...he could rest. Grillby would take care of him...didn't seem to be anything he could do to stop that. He let himself drift into slumber.

 

* * *

 

Alphys scurried down the long, damp hallway just ahead of the plodding flame. Her claws laced nervously together, rubbing up and down, up and down. Which tools had she brought in her bag again? It felt like ages ago that she had gotten Grillby’s email, sitting in the small room that had become her office in the midst of the evacuation. Had she brought the portable scanner?...she thought she might have. She hoped she had, she really, really hoped so.

 

Finally, she reached the corner. Stars, why were these caves so long? Of course, most monsters were taller than she was, but...there were short people too! Shouldn't there be some kind of bench in here?...then again, most monsters got out more often than she did. She didn't really blame them for forgetting about monsters like her.

 

White, icy fury barred the gap before her. She knew this stretch of the Underground was famous for its semi-permanent blizzard...but this felt...extreme. She stood there, staring at the literal wall of snow before her. It...scared her. A lot. She knew how weather worked in the Underground, a combination of radial discharge from the CORE, consensus in monster-aura overlap, and external leakage from outside the Barrier. Still...this?

 

Behind her, the slight heat grew until it was a quiet blaze.

 

“.....oh.”

 

The footsteps stopped. She felt a little bit better knowing the longtime Snowdin native was just as wary of the storm as she was. Still, it wouldn't hurt to check. She reached out a claw to the whipping white wind. The moment it dipped through, her claw lurched sideways. She shook the arm stiffly.

 

“I d-d-don't think we're g-g-getting through there.”

 

The moan of the wind was her only reply.

 

“H-h-how much would it-”

 

“Quite a bit…..” She slumped, “.....were I in…..better condition…..but…..I am not.”

 

They stared at the snow some more. She tried to remember how the caves in this part of Waterfall fitted together. Maybe there was a more...sheltered exit? She didn't think so. Hadn't she heard Un- Un- _her_ bragging about that? ‘Only one way through, a perfect bottleneck for the humans’...something like that. Guess...it wasn't...good enough.

 

“.....Do you…..perhaps…..” She turned her head towards the flame at her side. A flicker of a smile passed over her snout at the figure in his arms. Poor skeleton...she wished she could fall asleep so easily, “.....do you know…..of anyone…..who might still be here…..?”

 

She winced. No one had really wanted to return here...besides the worry that the human was still out there, there was the...dust. Waterfall...had been hit pretty bad. That other skeleton...Papyrus?...had done his best...but too many monsters had called this part of the Underground home.

 

Wait...who had volunteered to search through here? There were so many caves...someone had pointed out the blue-garbed skeleton might be hiding out in one of them. Who...they were taller than her, not that that meant much, she was freakishly short. They...had glasses? No, a monocle...no, that wasn't right either. A...magnifying glass. Who did she…

 

“Um...I think G-g-gerson might b-b-be around here somewhere…?”

 

All of the motion in the room was sucked away.

 

“.....Gerson.”

 

She eyed the flame. Against the light of the storm his flames almost seemed to vanish. His grip on the sleeping skeleton tightened.

 

“Um, I'm sure we can-”

 

“Gerson is…..fine, we…..we can go to Gerson’s…..fine. That’s…..fine.”

 

The flame spun on his heel, wobbling slightly from the unaccustomed weight as he came to a stop. He looked down at the skeleton, flames flickering with gold, then back at the wall of ice. He sighed, and set out into the depths of Waterfall, Alphys scurrying along after.

  
  
  
  
  



	8. Chapter 8

Alphys’ claws balled into a fist just short of the door. She could do this, she could do this...she could...she couldn’t do this. She spun around to face the solemn flame and still sleeping skeleton.

 

“Um...I d-d-don’t think-”

 

“Woah there! What do we have here?”

 

She froze. Behind the flame, leaning casually on the shaft of his famous weapon, the Hammer of Justice eyed her with amusement. The flames around Grillby’s shoulders surged, then collapsed back into their previous, near-ember, state. Slowly, very slowly, he turned around.

 

“.....Gerson.”

 

The old turtle nodded his head to the flame.

 

“Grillby. Been a while.”

 

“.....yes.”

 

The two figures, one leathery, one smoldering, seemed to fill the room with a kind of silence that muffled every other sound under the weight of unspoken feelings.

 

“Several months even.”

 

“.....yes.”

 

The feeling seeped into her, making her magic slow like viscous fluid. Her SOUL, deprived of sensation, beat faster in an effort to make up the difference. It didn’t work.

 

“Didn’t even think you knew where I lived.”

 

“.....didn’t.”

 

The old testudines’ face split into a grin. Alphys’ scales broke out into a sweat. This was way worse than a snow storm.

 

“Just as much of a conversationalist as you’ve always been, I see.”

 

“.....yes.”

 

He stood up from his perch, slinging the massive, gritty hammer across his shell. He started over, back arched, legs hobbled, every step slow, but rock solid. His good eye roved over the injured flame, stopping at the embers on his chest.

 

“Still got to work on your left side defense.”

 

Silence. The turtle continued forward, circling the wary flame. Alphys quietly shook in her huddle by the door.

 

“Seen that one before.”

 

Grillby’s head flared at the gesture towards his passenger. Alphys flinched back from the heat.

 

“Been a while...coupla decades at the least, not that he’s grown much. Snuck into my shop. Thought I wouldn’t notice him trying to leave with a few crabapples, wah ha ha.”

 

Grillby said nothing, hugging the sleeping monster closer.

 

“Pretty bad off, I thought. Looked like something off Urendon.”

 

Grillby flinched. Alphys wondered what Urendon was...and why Sans looked like he might have come from there.

 

“Figured he needed them. Wished I’d given him more when I saw the little one he had with him. What’s his name, Grillby?”

 

“.....Sans.”

 

The turtle’s eye whipped back to the flame’s face, then down at the always grinning skull in his arms.

 

“Hmm. Papyrus’ brother, huh?”

 

Silence filled the cavern. In the distance, a sad melody mixed with the rain.

 

“Come on in, old spark. Ain’t gonna hurt him.”

 

The old soldier made his way to the door, stopping in front of the still-trembling scientist. His face softened.

 

“You too, girl. Undyne would throw me in the River if she knew I’d made her soulmate stand out in the wet. Kettle’s in the back...I’ll make us a pot of Fluffybun’s tea, shall I?”

 

Alphys stood perfectly still as the two ancient monsters passed her by. He...he...called her...U...Und... _her_ soulmate…? No, no, no, that...he...no. She...she wasn’t...Und...they...stars. Stars, they were, weren’t they? They...she...no, no...why hadn’t she noticed? Why...why hadn’t she said something. They...they…

 

The silence of the cavern mixed with the sobs of loss into a mixture that tasted distinctly of regret.

 

* * *

 

Grillby stared around the brightly lit interior of the house. Whatever he had expected of Gerson’s abode...it certainly wasn’t this. The old soldier he had known had been brilliant, a tactician and strategist to rival any human you cared to name. He had run the logistic and bureaucratic side of the war with strict efficiency, if not overwhelming success. The monster that had done that...he never would have imagined Gerson of all people comfortable in a home like this.

 

Lace. That was the first word that came to him. Cream was a close second, with gingham pulling up within the instant. The house was...dainty? Formal? No, not formal...just...soft edges and bright colors everywhere. He ogled the furniture...the tables even had little skirts. It was...not what he would have expected.

 

“Like what you see, eh? Wah ha ha!”

 

Grillby stared at the grisled monster, who was leaning his hammer next to a hand carved coat tree complete with a well-worn robin perching up top.

 

“.....doilies.”

 

Gerson grinned back at him, plodding his way through the chintzy living room towards what was probably the kitchen door.

 

“Yep. Grandniece made them. Not her best work, of course...got a shop up in New Home for the posh types. Gives me her less popular samples, thinks I don’t know. Wah ha ha!”

 

Grillby looked around. The patterns were a little on the gaudy side...then again, so was the room.The only reasons it wasn’t an eyesore were the unified cream-color of the wood and the round, white yarn-art festooned upon every conceivable piece of furniture.

 

The weather-beaten turtle stopped in the doorway, hollering over his shoulder, “Sit down before you fall down, stubborn flame. Furniture can take a little wear, just like us. Wah ha ha! Now, where did I put that teapot?”

 

The sounds of rummaging were muffled by the closing door. Grillby was alone in the uncomfortably quaint room...well, except for the still-sleeping skeleton in his arms. He looked around wildly for somewhere to set the skelly that didn’t look like a showroom piece...he wasn’t having any luck. He sighed, and shuffled over to the ruffled loveseat. It was big, and overstuffed, and had a soft-looking afghan that was probably big enough to wrap the small form twice over. It would do.

 

Grillby knelt on the well-worn hardwood. He slid his arms across the fabric, letting the skeleton settle flater a centimeter at a time. He looked up at his skull, wondering if it was safe to let it rest...it did not look as soft as it had...but...it would be better to keep it elevated...just in case.

 

Without letting the movement shake his lover, Grillby brought his legs around to curl underneath him. This was...perhaps not the most comfortable of positions...but he would endure. To keep the skeleton safe...knowing Sans had felt safe enough to fall asleep in his arms...it brightened his SOUL.

 

His flames flickered, warmth redirected from his core to his arms. There...that was better. He freed his right arm from beneath Sans’ knees, lingering to rub at a patch of dirt on the thin fabric of his borrowed flannel pants. He frowned. These really were too thin to be useful in Snowdin anymore...the nights brought quite a chill. Why had he picked these, out of all the sleepwear he had accumulated?

 

Oh...yes. He hadn’t really been thinking the skeleton would be moving anywhere outside of his home, had he? And he was well aware of how much heat he kept in his own home. The fabric had seemed more than enough, especially over bones he wasn’t quite certain wouldn’t need the attention of a first aid kit. Now, he regretted not opting for something more...substantial. At the very least, he could have wrapped the skeleton in one of Fuko’s gift robes. He’d never liked the feel of the things himself, but perhaps Sans…

 

In the battleground of clashing fabrics and polished wood, Grillby’s head slowly fell to rest against his arm.

 

* * *

 

Sans started at the feeling of fabric against his cheek. When had he...where...what…

 

“Woah there, didn’t mean to startle you.”

 

His head jerked up. Who was…

 

“Over here, wah ha ha!”

 

He swivelled to face the voice. It sounded...kinda familiar? He’d heard it before, but...not for a while. Hadn’t heard it much, either. Hmm.

 

“You’re awake then, hmm? Hungry? You look it.”

 

Sans thought about it. Hungry...yeah, he could do with some food. Food would be nice. Something about that phrase, though...he felt like he had heard it before.

 

“Ha! Thought so. I’ll just go digging around in the pantry, shall I? Not like I’m going to run out of dirt, wah ha ha!”

 

From a little ways off to his left came a clink. It sounded like...wood on bone? No, not...not bone...china.

 

“Careful now, just poured the hot water for the tea. The yellow cup’s for that nervous friend of yours. Green one’s for the flame. Make sure he drinks it when he wakes up, skeleton. Now...let me see what all’s fit for company…”

 

The sound of footsteps retreated off into the darkness. A creak, then the sound of a latch. Great.

How was he supposed to know which cup was the yellow one? Nevermind, scratch that - how was he supposed to know where the cups even were? He should have asked - no, that would be rude, clearly he was supposed to figure this out. He really was just a burden on everyone, wasn’t he?

 

Off to his right, slightly behind him, a door creaked open. It sounded like a big door, or maybe just a heavy one, and the creak was...lower and...bluer?...than the one earlier. From much closer to the ground came an odd kind of footstep, accompanied by the clicking of claws...someone new?

 

“heyla.”

 

Whoever it was jumped, scrambling back until a thump - back into a wall?

 

“S-s-sans?”

 

Ah. Alphys, then. The odd thought came to him that with the height the sound of the thump had been at, she was probably about the same height as him. Weird. He knew he was too short for a monster...maybe she’d just been carrying something.

 

“yup. over here.”

 

Her footsteps drew closer. About halfway there they grew muffled for a moment, then louder again. A rug?

 

“Oh. G-g-gerson said something about t-t-tea.”

 

Sans jumped on this answer to his color problem.

 

“yep. said _tea_ me that the yellow one’s for you, and i have to get grillby to drink the green one.”

 

For a moment, all he could hear was the sound of her breathing and Grillby’s flames. Shit, had he said something wrong?

 

“O-o-okay. Do you w-w-want the red one, then, or was that his?”

 

Sans shrugged. How was he supposed to know?

 

“F-f-fine. Um...here.”

 

The smooth curve of a porcelain cup bumped against his phalanges. He jerked back, then reached out and grabbed it apologetically.

 

“thanks.”

 

He heard a scuffing sound from down below, about where he figured Alphys’ feet would be.

 

“D-d-don’t mention it.”

 

A sniff, the kind that always followed long bouts of crying...weird. Had she been crying? Not wanting to make her uncomfortable, he took a sip of the tea. This...actually wasn’t half bad. It was kinda bitter, but...maybe that was how it was supposed to taste? He’d never really liked bitter things.

 

“Um…” Alphys’ voice trailed off, then started again, “Um...I...don’t r-r-really know how to ask you this, b-b-but...um...and, um...just t-t-tell me if I say something wrong, or, um, rude, but, um…um...why...why do you look-k-k like you’ve been g-g-given DETERMINATION?”

 

He tilted his skull, “what’s that?”

 

“Oh, um...it’s...um, it’s a thing humans have? It’s red...and glowing? And, um...it comes out of them when they die?”

 

Every bone in Sans’ body froze except for his left hand, still holding the tea, which began to shake. Red...and...glowing...gold...and...red. He gulped

 

“like blood?”

 

“Um...kinda? Only brighter...and, um...it’s weird. I think it’s the r-r-reason why human SOULs last aft-t-ter death...and...um, maybe it d-d-does other stuff too...? I don’t really know.”

 

A memory flooded over him. Guess it was more than one memory, really. Red splashed on golden tiles, white bones through thin skin. A bright red SOUL, weirdly upside-down and brighter than any he’d ever seen before, floating before his eyes. The SOUL shattered, but...instead of fading away...the pieces melted, splashing the blood-stained floor. Then the puddles...surged, red liquid flowing along grooves, down columns, pulling back into a weird-shaped puddle...a kind of star thingy, only with four points. It flared...and before him stood a scowling child covered in dust, ready to fight.

 

“...ns...ans...Sans...SANS!”

 

His skull shot back.

 

“what.”

 

“Um...I...um, you...your eye was...glowing? And I d-d-didn’t know...what to do.”

 

He turned his skull away from Alphys’ voice, pulling the mug up to his teeth in a messy sip that splattered him with tea. Great. Now he was going to be sticky.

 

“.....Alphys?”

 

Sans hastily covered his tea. Grillby’s voice sounded like it came from right below him...he’d just been drinking the tea, didn’t even think to wonder where Grillby was, he might have hurt him, he _almost hurt him!_ Stupid, useless-

 

Flames wrapped around his tibia, warming the aching bone. Huh. He hadn’t realised he’d been hurting. It didn’t feel too bad, not even a three, actually. Hardly counted as pain at all.

 

“.....Sans, you were…..doing it again.”

 

His SOUL dimmed. Right. He’d kinda almost promised Grillby he wouldn’t think like that anymore, hadn’t he? He was a stu- nope, nuh uh, not gonna do that. Distraction, need a distraction…

 

The weight in his hand reminded him of what the other monster...Gerson?...had asked him to do.

 

“green cup’s for you, grillby...you’re supposed to drink it,” this second he added when no sounds of moving crockery reached his stapes.

 

The crackling of flames was the only sound.

 

“um...grillbz?”

 

A sigh from below, and the scrape of ceramic against wood. Sans relaxed. That monster wasn’t going to get mad at him now.

 

“S-s-sans...um, what...what were you doing?”

 

He took another sip of the tea.

 

Grillby’s voice rose from the depths, “.....beating himself up…..unnecessarily.”

 

Now that he thought about it, it kinda almost tasted...flowery? He was hating it more with every sip. Something about this tea made him want to give someone a bad time...oh.

 

“this is golden flower tea, isn’t it?”

 

“Why w-w-would he do that?”

 

No one seemed to have heard him.

 

“.....the monster who…..raised him…..was not the most…..caring of people.”

 

“you know, i think it is. you would not be- _leaf_ how hard it is to forget that taste.”

 

A pop, accompanied by a surge of heat from beside his shin, indicated Grillby, at least, could hear him; even if the flame wasn’t going to allow the change of subject Sans so desperately wished for.

 

“B-b-but...monsters...monsters are made of k-k-kindness and c-c-compassion. Who...who would-”

 

“The one…..who was attacking Sans…..”

 

Far off, Sans heard the sound of an opening door.

 

“.....The one…..whom I fought. Gaster.”

 

Somewhere just this side of the opened door, something crashed to the ground with a clang.

 

“Woah there, Grillby. Never thought I’d see the day you started wailing on Gaster, wah ha ha! What did he do, dust your soulmate?”

 

The only sound to be heard in the house was the shattering of what was, in all probability, a very nice green cup filled with tea.


	9. Chapter 9

Alphys sat hunched in a violently pink floral chair that was about twice as big as she was. Her claws clutched a sculpted china cup glazed to look like some kind of yellow flower she’d never seen and a cream-coated wafer that she thought was too sweet. The air around her felt thick, not just with the general dampness of Waterfall, but with the emotions of what had just been shared.

 

They’d started just around the time the human made it out of the ruins, although partway through, Grillby had mentioned that these...RESETs?...weren’t the first the Underground had known. Gerson had nodded, Sans had flinched. She’d asked how that was possible, if humans were the only ones with this power. Sans had muttered something like ‘that bloody talking flower’ and she had shut up, falling into a spiral of self blame that had been ended when Gerson handed her the wafer

 

They’d got as far into the human’s rampage as she’d been able to pick up on her cameras when Sans’ bones had started rattling. He was the only living creature in the Underground who knew what had happened to the human after the left Mettaton Neo. The shaking had gotten bad enough that Grillby had pulled the skeleton down into his lap, just holding him until the memories left him alone. If...if what Sans had managed to get out was any indication...he deserved a hug more than anyone else. Certainly more than her - after all, she hadn’t even worked up the courage to face the human...he’d taken them down over and over and over again in a desperate attempt to force a RESET...or even just buy some time.

 

She had thought...all that...was more than enough, but...it wasn’t. Even Grillby hadn’t realised just how hard those few months alone had been on the skeleton. She shuddered when she realised what he meant when he said he ‘didn’t see the point in getting up after that’, especially when she added up how much time must have passed from their glimpse of him on the cameras to the day Grillby walked all the way out to the Ruins door. Why he wasn’t dust already was...well, not a mystery in the way the phrase usually meant. 

 

From what she was able to piece together, Sans seemed to have an unusually high concentration of DT for a monster. Why or how that had come to be...she really didn’t know. The dosages she’d given the Amalgamates had faded to almost nothing over time...but Sans’ levels seemed to be almost...stable, like they were a part of him. And yet...and yet she had known monsters with personalities influenced by DT...and Sans was about as far from that as you could get. Suicidal, anxious, depressed, unambitious to a fault...at least, that was how he seemed to her.

 

The only thing about him she could remotely get to fit with her knowledge of DT was his relationships with his brother, Grillby, and maybe even Asgore, although she had no idea why. That...and what he had done for her and Grillby during the fight. DT didn’t always manifest as a self-centered attitude. Rarely, and spectacularly, it manifested as a selflessness that was almost terrifying. The desire to save everyone...the burning passion to protect everyone’s hopes and dreams...the will to defy fate if it meant one more life would be saved...these were the qualities that marked selfless DETERMINATION.

 

“Woah there, wait a minute. Sans, when you...woke up at the door again, your sight was still...gone? Is it gone now?”

 

Her head jerked up. She’d been so caught up in her thoughts, she’d missed some of the story. Would they repeat it if she asked? No, she couldn’t do that...what had Gerson just asked? Had he...was Sans blind? The skeleton hesitated...then nodded. Stars...she felt horrible. All this...everything that had happened to him, and now he had lost his sight? No wonder he had been so cautious about the tea earlier. He hadn’t been able to see where it was, or what the cups looked like, or  _ anything _ . The expression on Gerson’s face told her he felt the same way.

 

But...he had said something about waking up at the door? From what she remembered Sans saying earlier, whenever he...did that thing where he turned to dust and then vanished...he woke up in the same place, leaning against that wooden door out at the edge of Snowdin. So...something had happened to Sans sight before one of those...loops? RESETs? No, not RESETs...from the way the other two had used that word, it meant one thing and one thing only - the complete reversal of a short period of time caused by the death or choice of a human...or someone else filled with DT. She knew for a fact Sans hadn’t undone anything - she and Grillby had watched him...dust...and still been sitting there after he’d gone.

 

“S-s-sans, are you saying your injury st-t-tayed with you through the...um...loop thingy?”

 

His skull swiveled towards her, then dipped. A nod.

 

“Is this the f-f-first time that’s happened? You m-m-mentioned a slash-”

 

“.....It is now…..a very raw scar…..across his ribs.”

 

The look the flame was giving her...she gulped. Okay, new topic...no, wait, she really wanted to know about this.

 

“So it...um, healed?”

 

Grilby’s flames died back down to normal levels, “.....I suppose so. The scarring…..does not match…..what I would expect…..from such a wound…..after such a short…..amount of time….. Now that I think about it…..his skull damage seemed…..smoother, after his return…..almost as if…..it had begun…..to rebuild?”

 

“it didn’t hurt so much either. still aches, though.”

 

She frowned, chewing idly on her bottom lip. That sounded like what she would expect of DT. It was, to a limited extent, a booster to the SOUL’s natural healing capacity...but...it still didn’t sound right. There was more healing than a normal monster...but far less than she would predict based on Sans’ levels of DT. 

 

A cough sounded. She looked up, then blushed, “S-s-sorry, just thinking. You, um...you can go on.”

 

Sans shrugged. It felt like a habit, the kind of thing people do to relieve tension...it would have worried her less if he wasn’t still rattling faintly in Grillby’s lap.

 

“i...that time i woke up? i kinda thought...maybe it was all a dream? that someone was just pranking me, and when i made it back to snowdin, everyone would laugh at the stupid joke. heh.” 

 

The rattling grew louder. Grillby pulled Sans close, nuzzling his skull, letting his flames wrap around the shaking skeleton. Sans hesitated, then leaned into the touch, burying his face in the other’s flames. He looked so...relieved, trusting, disbelieving. As if something he had wanted,  _ needed _ his entire life was being offered to him, and he wasn’t quite sure he believed it wasn’t going to be taken away. As if he didn’t think he deserved it, and almost wished it would disappear, that the worst would be ov- oh. OH. She blushed, turning her face away. 

 

Gerson was still staring at them, but he looked almost...amused? Relieved? Glad, somehow...the sort of expression she had seen on other monsters’ faces when a newly-bonded couple walked by. Love in the Underground was something everyone enjoyed seeing...something everyone hoped for, almost as much as they had hoped to see the stars.

 

“Never would have thought I’d see the day, stubborn flame that you are. Guess Fluffybuns won his bet after all.”

 

Grillby’s flames flickered blue for a moment...was that a blush? That was a blush, wasn’t it? 

 

“.....yes, well...can I take over, Sans?”

 

The skull nodded against his chest, the rattling settling down slowly but surely. It was beginning to make her uneasy, how much noise such a small monster could make. Which of his bones were even making the sound? His ribs? His spine? His phalanges?

 

“.....well…..he came into the bar…..I took him home. He…..wasn’t much better off…..than he had been…..exhausted. I got him to eat…..to sleep, although…..the nightmares did not help. Sans…..had quite a few.”

 

Grillby looked thoughtful for a moment, flames curling at the edges.

 

“.....when he woke.....I believe…..he was looking for…..something, someone. He…..resonated the bond.”

 

Both she and Gerson shared a look. The way he said that made it sound as if this was an old thing...but Sans and Grillby were acting like they were in the first weeks of a relationship.

 

“.....I…..had sensed it a long…...long time ago. Sans…..did not know…..what to look for. Someone…..had told him skeletons…..could not love.”

 

Gerson scowled, “Really, now? That’s…” his voice faded away

 

“.....looking back, I…..I think it might have been…..Gaster. I…..I am almost certain of it. Sans…..did not have a…..healthy childhood…..and what we heard…..Gaster say…..makes me believe that…..that was far from their first…..meeting.”

 

Gerson grabbed his cup off of the table, a dainty white thing with gold edging. He took a sip, thoughtful, quiet.

 

“Think we’re getting ahead of ourselves. How long were you taking care of Sans here for, exactly?”

 

Grillby popped, “.....recently or…..in total?”

 

Gerson grinned, “Let’s start with just lately, wah ha ha!”

 

“.....well, I would say…..perhaps two days? Three?.....not more than that.”

 

Gerson sat back, “Well now, there’s a thing. Seems I remember bumping into that old ghoul about three days ago. Didn’t even stop to say hello, wah ha ha! Not that he would.”

 

Grillby sat straighter...then slouched. Gerson’s face softened.

 

“Now now, old flame, I know he didn’t deserve it. Decided to apologize to him, oh, sixty years ago now? Just before Sans there stopped by, now that I think about it. Couldn’t find the bugger, though, and damned if my letters didn’t just show back up here unopened.”

 

Okay, Alphys was officially lost.

 

“Oh, sorry, Alphys. Sometimes this old monster forgets not everyone’s been around as long as he has, wah ha ha! Back in the old days, the four of us were something of a family, our own folks being...around. Whenever Grillbz and I weren’t on duty...Royal Guards and all that...Asgore and Gaster’d hook up with us for some good old-fashioned fun. The pranks we used to pull!” 

 

Sans pushed away from Grillby’s chest to stare at him...well, she assumed that was what the skeleton was doing. Grillby certainly seemed embarrassed enough. She wondered what about that sentence was so surprising...

 

“Anyways, Gaster used to have a thing for Gorey. Seems like Asgore was the only one who couldn’t see it, wah ha ha! Oblivious as could be. Then one day his dad shows up and drags him off to some ball or other at the palace, and Toriel and he bump into one another...literally! And that was that. Gaster, well, he couldn’t quite accept that the old softy he’d been crushing on for years  _ really _ went and fell in love with the princess, so what does he do but storm in and start telling her off! Got me and Grillby here in loads of trouble, since got us haring off on some wild goose chase while he did it.”

 

Alphys felt her face flush. This sounded like something out of one of her anime. Unrequited love, childhood friends, a rivalry speech, romance...she really needed to stop thinking about this.

 

“Now, Grillby here got over it pretty quickly. He and Gaster used to be thick as thieves, practically brothers! But...well, I didn’t cool down so quickly, see? He never would ask for help on something, always thinking he could manage on his own, but this? This took the cake. What if someone had followed him in, someone more...murdery? We were just at the start of the war, then, not that we knew it was a war, mind you, but...you could almost feel it in the wind, eh? The weight of what was to come.” 

 

She looked over at the two veterans. The expressions they wore...well, for the first time she was glad she hadn’t been alive back then to see the surface. In the silence, she noticed Sans had stopped rattling. She looked over. The skeleton was watching Grillby...well, his face was trained in the direction of Grillby’s face. She wondered how hard it would be, knowing someone you loved was troubled, but being totally unable to help because you had no way of knowing what was wrong...she wondered if that was how Und... _ she _ had felt about her.

 

“Never really had a chance to cool down and just talk with the monster, not for, oh, a couple hundred years? And by then, well, maybe Gaster didn’t care anymore. Depends how bad the war hit him...and how hard he took being down here. Thought I heard somewhere that Fluffybuns had appointed him Royal Scientist. Must have been before your time, missy.”

 

She frowned. She knew there had been a Royal Scientist before her. Everyone knew, they had built the CORE! It was kind of hard to miss, a revolutionary device that...she wondered how much time and energy it had taken, designing the CORE, perfecting it, building it. She wondered how much of a monster it would take, seeing it through. She wondered how much would be left. 

 

“But...but the Royal Scientist b-b-before me...um, he...fell into the CORE...d-d-didn’t he? So, he can’t b-b-be alive...can he?”

 

Alphys couldn’t help but sweat under the combined attention of two glares and one set of empty eye sockets. 

 

“What’s in the CORE, anyway?”

 

She started, then turned to the wrinkled tortoise, “Um...it’s, um...complicated. There’s s-s-so much raw magic...it could be...j-j-just about anything, really.”

 

“.....what do you mean?”

 

She cleared her throat, sparking a fit of coughing. Gerson refilled her cup of tea, pressing the sickly-sweet liquid to her lips. It wasn’t that she disliked Golden Flower tea...her problem was...more complicated.

 

“Well, um...so, magic b-b-bends the, um, laws of reality? It makes things wh-wh-which aren’t possible real. But, um...we control it, right? But raw magic...isn’t, um, directed? So there’s no telling what...what it will do. I, um...there’s...since I, um...since I heard about the previous Royal Scientist f-f-falling in, I, um...put up barriers? But...it still leaks, a bit. That’s why...um, why people aren’t supposed to b-b-be in there for more than a few hours. It, um...twists people?”

 

The silence was far beyond the point of being uncomfortable, well into the realm of terrifying. She gulped nervously, twiddling her thumbs.

 

“.....twists people.”

 

She flinched. The silence had grown almost deafening before that.

 

“Um, yes? It...there were, um...monsters who lived there? B-b-before the new rules. They, um...you don’t see them much. They’re kind of...grey? And...they’re not really s-s-sane. They’re harmless!” She waved her claws placatingly at the glare the flame was shooting her, “It’s just, um...there’s one who won’t stop sp-p-peaking in rhymes...and another...a kid who’s, um...they’re kind of...morbid. Mostly they...um...hide. They d-d-don’t like talking to other m-m-monsters much.”

 

“The rhymer...he’s got a brother over in Hotland, right? The one who always ties his shirt sleeves over the end of his fists.”

 

She nodded. Gerson looked as though he were trying to remember someone.

 

“I remember him. Nice kid. Worked for the Royal Mail for a while. Always liked words when he was a kid. Used to write poetry. Won a prize from the newspaper for it, even. He used to talk about how words were the only things in the world that made him happy. Obsessed with the things.”

 

Grillby seemed to be remembering something, “.....the child…..are they.....MK’s sibling?”

 

She didn’t really know who he was talking about. Sans did, however. He nodded to her, “Um...yes?” She wondered when he had met the child...and who MK was.

 

Grillby’s flames fell, “.....the child was…..one of three. Triplets….the third died…..when they were infants. They…..did not know…..until they were older…..they could not…..get past it. Knowing…..they might have had…..two siblings…..and they had lived…..happily…..while one was dead.”

 

Gerson nodded decisively, “This CORE thingy makes you even more obsessive, then. Skeleton,” Sans flinched, “It’s okay, boy. Ain’t gonna hurt you,” Gerson looked kindly down at him, “Where’d you live, hmm? Before you came through here. Waterfall? New Home?”

 

Sans looked...blank. It wasn’t as if there was no expression on his face...he didn’t seem to be able to stop grinning. It was more...subtle than that. As if his face had been left behind while he had something else to do. It made her shiver.

 

Slowly, gradually enough that she couldn’t have said when it started, his skull shifted from the blank mask into an expression of pain. She didn’t actually notice until Grillby’s grip shifted, one hand moving away from it’s encircling hold of the skeleton’s chest, stretching to engulf most of the left side of Sans’ face. Green flames flickered, and Sans started. His expression gained an element of guilt, but Grillby only had to nuzzle his cheek into the back of Sans’ skull before it disappeared. Sans leaned into the magic, letting the healing flames flicker through his skull.

 

Throughout it all, Gerson was silent, watching the pair without a hint of impatience. How long would she have to live, to get like that? A thousand years? Two? How old were these two, anyway...she knew they had fought in the war...had apparently known the king and queen before they were, well, the king and queen...but...how long ago had that been anyway? Somehow, the exact amount of time monsterkind had been trapped in the Underground was never discussed. She wondered if anyone knew...well, anyone who had not lived through it all. How many monsters were left who had seen the sun? A dozen? Less, probably. Would any be alive to see it again? She shivered away from that thought. She really didn’t like where it was going.

  
  


“.....Sans.”

 

“m’fine, grillbz. just...m’fine.”

 

“.....do you want to move on?”

 

Sans looked pathetic, “please? i...every time i try to remember, it hurts.”

 

Gerson nodded, his fingers fiddling with the magnifying glass hanging on a chain around his neck. Alphys wondered what he had been thinking...he looked as if what Sans had said had confirmed a theory. Would asking him be weird? 

 

“Why don’t we save the rest of this conversation for another day, hmm? The three of you look like you’re about to keel over. Alphys, mind giving an old turtle a hand? Haven’t had to air out the guest rooms in, oh, must be three years now. Wouldn’t want to find mildew sharing your bed tonight, would you? Wah ha ha! Cupboards over this way. Grillby! Get that skeleton of yours to eat something while he’s awake, will you? He’s skin and bones!...well, minus the skin, wah ha ha!”

 

Alphys scurried after the wrinkled monster, claws clicking on the hardwood floors. She nearly slammed into him when he stopped dead.

 

“Woah there, missy. No need to rush. If I know Grillby, he’ll take one look at the sandwiches I threw together and start rolling up his sleeves. Never could stand my cooking, wah ha ha! Now, grab those sheets there? Good, good. Got three guest rooms, not that they’ve ever been full to the brim. My guess is you’ll be wanting a room on one of the ends.”

 

She skittered after him, frowning into the heap of fabric, “Um...why?”

 

He winked at her, “Cause those two are acting like this is their first time being in love, wah ha ha! Not that it isn’t, mind you. At least for the skeleton. I doubt that storm you spoke of is going to let up anytime soon, and if you three get stuck here, well...let’s just say I’d be taking a room as far away from theirs as I could if it were me,” She blushed, and he let out a guffaw, “Didn’t think you could get that red, yellow scales and all. So, blue or orange? The white door leads to the bath.”

 

She bumped into him once again and peered around the mass of blankets. Three doors were spaced along the hall in front of her. The closest door was a dark orange, like the lava near her home. A potted water sausage plant marked the divide between it and the next door, a cheerful yellow that, somehow, made her stomach turn, although that might have been from the slightly wilted Golden Flower just beyond. Gerson snagged it before she could think to ask, opening the yellow door and tossing it in there. Behind him was a blue door, the kind of blue that comes from thousands layers of ice pressed together.

 

“Or-r-range?” Gerson nodded, shutting the yellow door and locking it tight. He stuffed the key in his pocket, muttering something about a damp shower? Maybe she’d heard that wrong. 

 

“Well, missy, if you wouldn’t mind dropping those off in your room, then, I’ll get started on the other. Bet you three gold we’ll be finished before they’re done!”


	10. Chapter 10

Grillby watched the old turtle run off down the hall, Alphys trailing behind him. Gerson was up to something, he could tell, but...well, he had a point. Grillby let his gaze drop down to the small skeleton hunched in his arms.

 

Sans frontal bone rested in the cup of his shoulder...it was odd how perfectly he seemed to fit, as if made to be there. The blanket had slipped a little, exposing one slender clavicle. Grillby felt his cheeks shift, dancing with gold light. Sans was one of the most beautiful monsters he had ever seen...how could anyone, how could Gaster...his flames popped wildly, bringing him back down. He really should not repay Gerson’s kindness by burning down his living room, badly decorated as it may be.

 

Sans skull lifted, sockets tilting up towards his face, “grills?”

 

He sighed, banking his anger back into the depths of his SOUL, where it could be safe until he needed it again. He felt a tentative shimmer of magic wisp across his SOUL, compassion and worry mingling with a lingering doubt as to what welcome awaited it. He let a pulse of reassurance and love flicker back. Sans relaxed, a layer of tension leaving his body that Grillby hadn’t realised was there...how long had Sans been practicing this, hiding his emotions behind layers of posture and expression? He knew he did it, knew it had become so habitual Sans might never be able to stop. Still...he did not like the feeling of guilt that filled him when he realised his lover had been worrying about him and he hadn’t noticed.

 

Well, all that energy he might otherwise waste in moping could be better spent making Sans something to eat. He scooped the adorable skeleton up into his arms as he shakily got to his feet, chuckling at the squeak Sans let out. Grillby prided himself for his taste as a chef...and Gerson had Papyrus tied for the worst meal he’d ever eaten. Admittedly, Papyrus had been only thirty or so at the time, but still...actually, that almost made it worse. Surely a monster as old as Gerson should be able to cook something _at least_ half-decent. Perhaps he had improved?

 

One look at the...things laid out to eat in the kitchen proved this hope in vain. Honestly, could he not have put in a little more care? Grillby let out a huff of disgust. His flames flickered in the damp, sporadic breeze of Waterfall making it’s way through the open window. Now, where to put Sans while he prepared something actually worth eating…

  


Sans shifted his weight experimentally in the hard seat. The padding in this seat cushion was so bad, it put even his lean frame to shame. Heh. At least it wasn’t that damned dirt outside the door.

 

He listened to the sounds emanating from Grillby...well, he thought it was Grillby. For all he knew, it could be a troupe of Temmies practicing the conga, wearing pink tutus and dust-coated, blood spattered shoes...no, stop it, not interested in a flashback right now. Concentrate on the noise, Sans. Use your worthless brain for something useful for once in your life.

 

Interesting, isn’t it, how much he could still place? That clang sounded like a soup-pot being dropped into a sink. That weird ringing, swishy stuff was water filling the pot. Wow, that was a big pot. How much soup was Grillby making, anyway? He did realize there were only four people in the house...well, Sans assumed that was how many people there were. This was starting to get annoying.

 

There, water’s off now. Slooshing...moving the pot over to the stove? Sans hoped there wasn’t anything for Grillby to trip on...right now he wouldn’t have been able to tell until it was too late. Blue sparked in his vision, setting into a floating flame, small, plasma curving around the bottom of something flat. Boiling the water then, good old fire magic. He let himself fall into the flames, mind filling up with the dance and bob of blue in front of his eyes. Why did they always cook with blue fire, anyways? He knew magic could be infused with any properties the monster desired, but somehow cooking flames were always blue. Maybe it was an association thing Blue magic didn’t damage things that didn’t move, so...pot wasn’t moving, therefore no damage to the pot. Logical now he came to think about it.

 

A gloop. What in the Underground could Grillby be messing with that might possibly go gloop? Butter, maybe? Gelatin? Why would he be messing around with gelatin? Eh, who knows. Sans wasn’t exactly an expert in the kitchen. That was what he went to Grillby’s for...well, not just that, now that he knew about the bond. All those times he’d just wanted to talk to someone and found himself at the bar’s door suddenly made a lot more sense...as did the urge he could never get rid of to do things for the flame, give things to him, fix things, etc.

 

That sounded like a fridge being opened. That...some kind of glass being slid around inside? Looking for something then. That was a drawer being pulled open, round objects bumping around inside...tomatoes maybe? He hoped so. Sans was obsessed with ketchup, but anything with tomatoes in it was absolute bliss. Something went sploosh into the pot...not a big something, but still. The sink went off again...what was he doing? Was he...washing the vegetables? Sans vaguely remembered someone mentioning something about that to him.

 

Three of the...whatevers...plopped down onto something flat. Less of a plop, more of a tmp, actually. Huh, footsteps, wood banging...looking for something again. Guess it would be kind of an inconvenience to cook in someone else’s kitchen. Drawer rattling, and...found it. Door slams shut, footsteps moving back to the tmp place...thingy. There was a word for it, or at least, he guessed there was a word for it. Eh, whatever. Not that it mattered.

 

The flames he had been watching intently backed down a hair, now to the point where their tips barely had a curl at the edge. Huh. He’d never seen the heat get turned _down_ before. Who would have-

 

Shink.

 

* * *

 

Despite the...less than stellar facilities, Grillby’s quest to feed his skeleton was going well. He had managed to find a pot big enough, and ingredients to make a soup that should last well over the next two days or so. The weather of Snowdin had always been tempered by the amiable nature of its inhabitants...but now? Who knows how long that storm could last. Snowdin had been hit harder than almost every other place in the Underground, possibly the hardest depending on just how many monsters had still been alive in the Ruins. Grillby remembered the Queen’s flight into their old city hadn’t been entirely lonely...but that had been several hundred years ago.

 

The stove was remarkably well-built for something owned by a decidedly non-gastronomic monster. Grillby had nodded silent approval when it took his flame within moments of starting. He’d spent some time looking around the kitchen for some kind of starter, stock or consume or flavor extract. Eventually he had settled on adding some of the bacon grease he’d found. Flavorful, if not the most soup-worthy ingredient.

 

The fridge had made him shake his head. Crabapples had always been some of Gerson’s favorites, even if few other monsters could stand the things. There was crabapple butter, crabapple jam, crabapple bread, and, of course, crabapples. He’d nearly given up before he’d noticed the drawer. Tomatoes. He smiled. He knew Sans’ partiality to the things.

 

Now...if he were Gerson, a monster who had been known for hoarding miscelaneous ‘artifacts’ even before the war...where would he have hid the knives? Keeping the things out of sight had become something of a monster tradition...well, ever since the First Child fell. It had started as a polite request by the King and Queen, that any monsters living in or near New Home keep sharp implements locked away. Few had realised the intent behind this...most had reconed that Toriel was being overly cautious again.

 

Grillby had heard the truth, one night when Asgore had need someone to confide in. Their adopted child...had not come to the mountain for a very good reason. They...the King and Queen had a very real concern the child might turn the blades on themselves. They were working to bring the child’s SOUL into a more healthy state...but they determined that removing temptation could not hurt.

 

From New Home, the news had spread, and soon the entire Underground was keeping their cutlery in locked drawers. It had become so popular that by the time of the Royal Children’s deaths...it had become a tradition. He wondered if Gerson had kept it up. After all...there were other reasons why locking away weapons was a good idea.

 

He found the drawer - not locked, but hidden inside the back of another cabinet. A compromise, then. It made sense...keys were easy enough to lose, and puzzles had an even longer standing tradition than hiding the knives. There were quite a few, paring knives and bread knives, steak knives and chopping knives. Grillby pulled out a well-kept steak knife with enough length, and a decent enough edge, to handle the tomatoes. He’d set them out on the cutting board along with a hunk of bacon he deeply wished to know how Gerson had acquired, deciding the largest tomato was a good place to start.

 

Shink.

 

The room...froze, light vanishing. The walls vanished, the stove and counters quickly following. The only things left in the small circle of his firelight were the cutting board, the tomatoes, the knife, a small section of tiled floor...and at the very edge, a hard wooden chair with a suddenly very stiff skeleton perched on the edge.

 

Grillby shivered. He’d heard about this trick of Sans’ from Doggo.

 

* * *

 

The sentry had been ordered by the Captain before Undyne to ‘clean up those damn nuisances that keep cropping up outside your station’. So, grumbling the whole time, Doggo had torn up the handmade puzzles Papyrus had spent the past year and a half designing, testing, and building as a way to slow down invading humans. Papyrus had gone out to check them and run back to his brother in tears. The skeleton had just been trying to help, and Doggo knew it, but orders were orders.

 

Orders, however, did nothing to prevent Sans from sitting him down at the bar that night for a quiet ‘chat’. Doggo had hardly left his station for the next month, all his down time spent filling out the forms that made Papyrus’ little contributions legal. Even after they’d been approved, Doggo had avoided Sans for almost a year out of sheer terror at whatever the skeleton had threatened him with.

 

* * *

 

The chair clattered to the floor, vanishing into the circling black that was making Grillby nervous in a way he had not thought possible. Sans stood, hands digging into the folds of the blanket in the same way he once would have shoved them into his hoodie. He turned his head to the side, staring into the void, “you, uh, really like swinging that thing around, huh?”

 

Grillby stared at the small skeleton, “.....Sans, what…..are you talking about?”

 

The skeleton didn’t move, gaze fixed eerily on the empty shadows. Finally, he let his skull hang loose,  “listen. i know you didn't answer me before, but...somewhere in there. i can feel it. there's a glimmer of a good person inside of you.”

 

Grillby frowned, “.....answer you before- Sans…..can you hear me?”

 

Sans’ skull swiveled around to face something around the level of Grillby’s stomach, “the memory of someone who once wanted to do the right thing. someone who, in another time, might have even been...a friend? c'mon, buddy. do you remember me?”

 

Grillby sighed. Sans was stuck in a flashback. He wondered what had triggered it...his own were mostly triggered by smell...the smell of burning hair, the smell of water hitting flame, the smell of crushed juniper berries. He knew the best thing to do was to ride it out. Still...if Sans could hear him...there was no harm in treating this like a rather awkward conversation...the sort that usually involved a cellphone and bad reception.

 

“.....of course I remember you…..I have known you…..for more…..than fifty years.”

 

“please, if you're listening...let's forget all of this, ok? just lay down your weapon, and...well, my job will be a lot easier.”

 

Grillby stared down at the knife in his hand. Oh. That...made a disturbing amount of sense. The sounds a knife made...well, they were very recognizable, and from what he remembered of Sans’ story earlier...the human had been rather fond of their little knife. He carefully set the knife down on the cutting board, catching one of the tomatoes as it made a run for freedom.

 

He backed away from the table, hands raised in the gesture of surrender that had a tradition spanning even longer than Monsters and Puzzles. Sans looked relieved, but...something in him, something resonating deep in the bond, was screaming.

 

“you're sparing me? finally. buddy. pal. i know how hard it must be...to make that choice. to go back on everything you've worked up to. i want you to know...i won't let it go to waste...c'mere, pal.”

 

Sans arms stretched towards him, blanket pooling around his ankles. As much as he wanted to run to the sweating skeleton and wrap him in his arms, warm him with his flames and never let him go...Grillby could still hear the rage and grief throbbing along their bond, and...well, someone who was that twisted with emotion wasn’t safe, especially since Grillby was not certain the flashback had ended.

 

If this really was a flashback...if Sans was reliving part of his fight, no, his war against the human...what would he have done, if the human had offered him MERCY, after running through the Underground and leaving dust spiraling in their wake? He doubted he would have relaxed into a hug. No...and he doubted Sans would realise the monster in his arms was Grillby until it was too late.

 

So Grillby stood, flames popping with anxiety as the seconds rolled by. Sans didn’t move, a statue in white and blue pajamas slowly soaking with sweat. Seconds rolled into minutes. Minutes into hours...well, it felt like they had been standing there like that, two figures surrounded by the murky black, for hours before something changed.

 

Sans began to shake. It was hardly noticeable at first, just a quiver in his distal phalanges. Then it seemed as if his whole hand was shaking, clicking and clattering as the bones bounced together. The shaking spread through his anatomy, the rattling of his bones almost deafening now. His arms drooped, wrapping around his shoulders as he dropped to his knees, patella cracking on the stucco tiles, making Grillby flinch. The black raced away, sliding over tables, counters, and walls in a way that made him feel as if they should be leaving burn marks. He watched the last of them pop out through the gap beneath the door, leaving only memories and two shaken monsters behind.

 

“g-g-grillby?” Blue tears were running down Sans’ skull, “you okay?”

 

He let out a sigh of relief, “.....I am fine, Sans.”

 

Sans skull dropped down, his empty sockets staring at the floor, “good.”

 

“.....Can I…..come closer, Sans?” One blue drop splattered on the floor, “.....Sans?”

 

“m’sorry.”

 

Grillby’s flames flickered, “.....what for?”

 

Sans voice caught in his throat, continuing in a sob, “i'msorryi'msorryi’msorry...”

 

The words went on and on, flowing just as fast as the tears that were streaming down Sans’ face. Grillby looked around the kitchen. The soup base was abandoned for later, not that he’d done much to it in any case. His eyes settled on a case he hadn’t noticed before, a glass enclosure with something brown and vaguely oval inside. Suspicious, Grillby lifted the lid. Inside were two untouched cinnamon bunnies. The icing a little crusty, but other than that, they were perfect. He picked up one, leaving the other for some future date, and made his way back to the weeping monster he adored.

 

“.....Sans, may I sit down?”

 

“i'm sorry, hic, i’m sorry...i...i’m…” the skeleton’s mumble wound down into silence.

 

“.....I am going to…..sit down.”

 

Sans head bobbed. Grillby settled on the floor, pulling the blanket behind his back. He would fold it later.

 

“.....do you think…..you could eat something, Sans?.....I have…..a lovely cinnamon bunny…..if you want it.”

 

Sans turned to him with an expression so rawly, pathetically eager that it made him wince. he handed over the sugary treat, watching with a chuckle as Sans tore through the cinnamon bunny in record time. Now that he came to think about it, it had been almost two days since the skeleton had eaten...if his...loops...didn’t reset the count.

 

Sans’ skull hung from his shoulders, sticky hands resting in his lap. Grillby watched as he slowly began to tilt towards him, legs sliding on the stucco tile of the kitchen. He pulled the skeleton into his arms, once again convincing shaky legs to carry the weight as he walked out into the hall. Neither of them had the energy for soup anymore.

 


	11. Chapter 11

Grillby woke feeling groggy and out of sorts. He groped on the nightstand for his glasses, knocking them off the polished metal surface and onto the floor. He frowned - since when were his nightstands metal? And why hadn’t his glasses made their usually clink on the hardwood floors? He tried to remember what had happened as he leaned over the side of the bed, searching what turned out to be pile carpet for his errant glasses. He’d just managed to locate them, at the very edge of his reach, when something bumped into him in the bed, destroying his sense of balance and sending him tumbling to the floor with a thunk.

 

“wha-” a pulse of magic reached him, worry and concern tinged with just a hint of fear. Right...Sans, human, dust, Gaster, Waterfall, Gerson. He remembered now. At least that explained the new decor.

 

“.....down here, Sans…..” He sent a pulse of reassurance in time with the words back to his lover.

 

A round white blur popped up over the edge of the bed, resolving itself into Sans’ skull when he finally managed to untangle his glasses and get them perched in front of his eyes. He waved, then remembered, and added a flash of orange magic to the motion. Sans focused on him.

 

“...why are you down there, Grillbz? bed’s up here.”

 

He got to his feet, taking in the blue-themed room as he did so. It certainly was...interesting decor. Metal and glass furniture, even the frame of the bed. A desk by the door and a mirror on the other side took up the far wall. Two nightstands flanked the down-quilted bed facing the door, a lamp in the shape of a fish on the one nearer Sans. His had a small painting of stars over an endless plain...it looked handmade, and somewhat familiar...ah. Gerson’s home from so long ago. 

 

The skeleton cocked his skull, reminding Grillby about the question. He couldn’t help but admire the play of firelight against Sans’ mandible, the rounded edge looking almost as if it were varnished in gold...oh. A tint of blue from his blushing flames joined the gold.

 

“.....I dropped…..my glasses. Tumbled off…..trying to catch them. Now, though…..I am…..enjoying the view.”

 

Sans frowned, “there some kind of painting i’m missing out on here?” The change in the line of his jaw shifted the shadows across his skull, highlighting his maxilla in a way Grillby had never seen before.

 

He chuckled, pulling himself up onto the mattress and onto his knees in front of the skeleton, the buttons of their pajama shirts less than half a meter apart, “.....I wouldn’t know…..I’ve been admiring you.”

 

Sans gulped, a tinge of blue spreading along his zygomatic bone, “oh.” 

 

Sans ducked his head, phalanges digging into the pillows beneath him. Grillby laid his left hand on the heap of pillows, ugly yellow pillowcases on those stolen from the other room mixed with the blue swirls of the pillowcases from this room. The tip of his flames brushed Sans’ bones, flicking into the gaps at the joints and around the tips. Sans’ blush spread, his left hand reaching up and feeling for a hood that wasn’t there. It ended up lingering on his collarbone, elbow resting on the femur of one of his crossed legs as he hunched over. 

 

“.....You are beautiful, Sans,” the elbow popped up, crossing in front of Sans’ chest. Grillby gently pushed it aside, laying a kiss on the centers of Sans’ radius and ulna.

 

“grills- mmh,” Grillby leant forward, his lips pressing against the smooth, cold range of Sans’ teeth. A spark of blue flashed in Sans’ left eye, growing into a quiet, heart shaped blaze. Cold wet pressed against his lips, the tongue prodding until Grillby let it in. Odd, how Sans had been guzzling ketchup for years, but never needed a tongue until his first kiss. This was much less uncertain, although still hesitating; Grillby could feel the worry that Sans would do something wrong eating at the insecure skeleton, and made sure to meet every push, every motion, every spark, with enthusiasm. Not that he was acting, not in the least. 

 

Grillby’s free hand slid down Sans’ humorous to his shoulder, tracing the joint below the shirt with interest. How could someone so strong, so...resilient to everything life had thrown his way...still be so small? The socket was not even as wide as the fingers of Grillby’s hand.

 

Sans’ left hand fell from its place against his skull, the skeleton leaning forward until his bones met fabric. He dug into Grillby’s shirt, padding the plush red until he found something harder. Sans’ phalanges clicked against plastic. He slipped around the edge, phalanges closing around the buttonhole...then he paused, pulling his skull away from Grillby’s lips, blue magic lingering in a trail between them.

 

“um...can i-?”

 

“Yes!.....Stars yes,” Sans flushed brighter. His phalanges played with the fabric, failing again and again to undo the button. He scooted closer, knees laced with Grillby’s own, other hand untangling from it’s sunken place in the pillows. Two hands were more effective, and Grillby’s shirt soon dangled open, damp air wicking at his chest.

 

Sans stopped moving, right hand still braced against Grillby’s shoulder, left hovering between them. Grillby waited, shifting slightly under the tingling he could feel skirting below the surface of his flames. Finally, Sans moved, left hand reaching forward, plucking at the air. Grillby’s SOUL sang, gold spiraling through his veins.

 

“heh. nice to see you grillbz,” Grillby’s head flew up, “that’s, um...am i doing this?”

 

Grillby looked down at his own chest, although he knew what he would see. Gold layered with his normal orange, flares and spirals covering his chest, his arms, his feet. It wasn’t new to him, the visual reaction of his own body to pleasure...but it had never occurred to him that it might be magic, actual magic, as opposed to something like the blue tint of his blush or the embering of a water-burn. 

 

“.....yes.”

 

Sans gulped, his glowing pupil slowly moving, up and down and around, until finally settling on Grillby’s face.

 

“wow, um...wow,” the phalanges of his left hand squeezed, sending another, stronger wave of tingling gold through the flame. He whimpered, the grip on their bond releasing instantly. 

 

Grillby growled, his own right hand leaving its place on Sans’ collarbone to cup the hand between them, “.....don’t stop.”

 

“sorry,” Sans skull fell. Grillby let his fingers slide around Sans’ until they found the thrumming bond. He might not be able to see without more effort than he was willing to put in, but he could feel the thing. He stroked it, thumb running up and down what felt almost like a cord of silk, although there was an element to it that almost screamed chain. Sans gasped.

 

“.....don’t apologize…..just move,” his own voice was almost a growl, darker and redder than his normal calm tones. The bones cupped in his wrist twitched, then, still hesitating, they gripped the bond again. He resisted the urge to force their wrists up tighter, letting Sans pick the pace.

 

The gold was coming steadily now, waves dissolving into a pulsing stream. A part of him wondered what this must look like to Sans. Was it as if a clear, Grillby-shaped space was being filled with molten gold? Was it like spattering paint on a black statue, lines and curves gradually becoming clear? Was it like a sputtering campfire with spindly flames growing into a bonfire, limbs growing fuller, taking shape one burst of fuel at a time? Was it something else entirely? 

 

Most of him was too busy reveling in the sensation, letting the tingling magic overrun his own for the first time in decades. He hadn’t missed the sensation much up till now, but his body clearly had. He felt each thrust, each twitch of Sans’ thumb against his shoulder, the rub of a chilly patella against the meat of his thigh, the curve of a skull leaning into his chest. It was more information than he could have believed possible, it was exhilarating and...well, it was overwhelming. 

 

Pleasure reverberated from the skeleton against him, the chill of the blue mixing wonderfully with the glint of gold, pushing him over the edge. He let the orgasm carry him away, collapsing above and around the limp skeleton curled in his lap, gold and blue light casting a bewitching glow across pale white. Sans fingers curled around him, drawing him closer, until they were wrapped together in a ball of satisfied magic and sleepy bones. 

 

* * *

  
  


This was why he never visited Gerson - not the workload at his bar, not the journey into Waterfall, not the annoyance of near-constant reminiscence - no, what really kept him away was the fact that if he came, he would have to stay the night; if he stayed the night, he’d be stuck in the humid, muggy air of Waterfall for the entire time he slept, which would hardly count as sleep at all; and the only way he could function when he got like this was either a jolt of magic straight to the chest or coffee - and Gerson hated coffee with almost as much passion as Papyrus had hated grease. Almost. 

 

Certainly enough to prevent him from ever allowing it the brew, liquid or bean, inside his home. Which led to Grillby standing in the stucco kitchen, wrapped in a fluffy green robe he wasn’t going to question, trying in vain to understand why coffee was not available to him. He blinked in the light reflected off the brass funnels, looking fruitlessly around the room for something, anything, that would give him enough energy to make the hike to Snowdin himself.

 

“Grillby, didn’t think I’d be seeing you this morning, not after that little display earlier, wah ha ha!” 

 

He turned slowly, one footstep at a time, to face the back door snuggled just behind the battered wooden table. Gerson stomped his feet on the mat, leaning a dripping umbrella up in a stand. 

 

“Well, I say morning, but who knows anymore? Can’t seem to feel the rhythm like I used to, not that someone as old as us really cares about night and day. Stay awake when you can, and sleep the rest of the time, just like that skeleton of yours. The tall one always used to complain about how many naps his brother’d take, but I say, more power to him! Being a functioning member of society takes a lot of energy. Save it up while you can, that’s my motto.”

 

Grillby gave him a look, “.....this…..from the same monster…..who used to…..stay up for days…..just watching the clouds…..go by.”

 

Gerson hung his overcoat on the rack. He turned and winked at Grillby, his one good eye momentarily shut, “Yep, that’s me! So, skeleton still sleeping, eh?”

 

Grillby nodded. Gerson wiped his boots on the mat, then plodded in, “Let him. I left that pot out by the way, wasn’t sure if you were done with it. Not that there was much in it, wah ha ha! Noticed you hardly touched the crabapples. No accounting for taste. Hungry?”

 

A bag plopped on the counter, something green and round rolling out of it. Grillby watched its progress along the counter, past a spice rack lacking in several key ingredients, hanging ladles shiny enough never to have been used, a coffee grinder - a coffee grinder? He stared at the thing. Gerson followed his gaze, and burst into laughter.

 

“Still a coffee person, eh? Let me go find the stash. Never could stand it myself, but some of the kids get cranky if they can’t get their fix.” 

 

Grillby switched his disbelieving gaze to the old tortoise, who smiled and shook his head, “No, not mine. Most of them aren’t even related to me, wah ha ha! But everyone knows old Gerson, hero of the war, storyteller, and unofficial grandparent to anyone in need of a place to stay. Lotta kids wind up coming this way, striking out for a place of their own, running away from a bad time, just plain curious.” 

 

One hand caressed the hanging cabinets, leathery skin that still bore the long-ago touches of too much sun sliding over pale wood fondly,  “Bit of a waystation, this house. I listen to their problems and try to get them where they need to go. Sometimes that’s back...sometimes it’s forwards...sometimes it’s a direction they never knew was there. Never judge them, and they seem to know that. I’d rather they have somewhere safe to stay the night then try to make it all on their own.” 

 

Gerson’s eyes drifted around the room. They stopped suddenly, focusing on something behind the flame, “Course, some don’t know a gift when they see one, wah ha ha! Ain’t that right, skeleton?”

 

Grillby turned. Sans was standing in the doorway, feet bare, skull lolling on his shoulders. One hand lingered on the door handle, the other leaning heavily on the frame. He looked just as exhausted as Grillby felt.

 

“Grillby, why don’t you lead that skeleton of yours over to the table, hmm? I’ll get you both something to drink. How do you feel about green tea, Sans?”

 

The skeleton shrugged, losing his balance and tumbling onto the floor with a thump. He sat there, dazed, left hand feeling around for something solid. Grillby walked over and knelt in front of him, reaching out to touch the arm. Sans froze, then wriggled his right hand into Grillby’s left, squeezing tightly. Grillby pulled him to his feet, Sans’ weight...well, lack thereof, really...still surprising him.

 

“.....this way, Sans,” He led the skeleton around the cutting block in the center of the kitchen, Gerson winking as he paced towards the sink. The flame reached the table, pulling out a chair and moving Sans’ hand to grip the side. The skeleton felt up and down, found the edge of the chair, and sat. Admittedly, he sat sideways with his feet dangling over the edge, but he made it, and Grillby knew better than to try and help. He pulled out a chair beside Sans and plopped down.

 

It wasn’t that Sans was prideful...far from it, the skeleton actively hated himself. Part of it was that doubt, always nibbling away at the back of the small monster’s SOUL, that he was useless, worthless, and that the world would be better of with him dusted. That was part of it, right enough. He knew Sans was amazing, wonderful, kind, helpful...but the skeleton couldn’t see any of this. Doing things for him, things Sans could still muddle through for himself...it would remind the skeleton that he was, in fact, a perfectly capable monster...well, that was what Grillby hoped.

 

The other part of why he didn’t just carry the skeleton was more...complex. Sans...thought of others before himself. It was as much a part of his SOUL as his blue magic, as his jokes. The skeleton would do anything for others. He had no sense of when to say no, when to protest...not when it came to himself. He’d jumped in to defend his brother at the drop of a hat...but...from Papyrus? There was nothing he wouldn’t take. Being carried around like it was nothing, insults that never really meant to harm, check ins at all hours of the day or night...if Papyrus had asked Sans to jump into the Abyss...Sans would have done it. 

 

Grillby did not want his relationship with Sans to be like that. He wanted a partner, an equal, a lover, a friend. He did not want to be a replacement for Papyrus. He did not want Sans looking to him for everything...and so he let Sans sit sideways in the chair, let him sleep alone while Grillby had other things to do, let him steal the covers on the bed. As much as he could safely do so, Grillby intended to let Sans do things for himself. 

 

Two mugs plopped down on the table between them. Grillby started out of his doze, staring up at the grinning testudines before him.

 

“Drink up, not that you’ll be doing much today. You two look done in, wah ha ha! The storm outside Snowdin hasn’t let up a bit, so since you three are stuck here with me for a while longer, I plan on fattening you up a little. You’re practically skin and bones!”

 

Sans skull whipped round. Oh, no.

 

“heh, that was pretty  _ humerous _ .” 

 

Gerson stared over at the skeleton, while internally Grillby groaned. As much as he disliked the way Sans had used humor to mask his emotions before, not everything the skeleton had done had been out of pain. Puns were a part of his conversation even on a good day, and skeleton puns? Gerson had just started a war.

 

“ _ tibia _ honest, i’d thought things sounded a little bit  _ hollow _ down there. course, it’s hard to  _ patella _ if anything’s changed, cause doctors just  _ see right through me _ .  _ ulna _ -ver believe it, but they’ll go looking through the x-rays and come up  _ bone dry _ . they-”

 

Gerson was doubled over, wheezing and coughing from the effort of containing all that laughter...or maybe a groan, Grillby couldn’t tell. Probably both. He decided to take pity on the monster.

 

“.....Sans, enough.”

 

The skeleton turned to him in a way Grillby remembered all too well. For a moment, he was back in the bar, glass and rag in hand, as Sans winked at him over the head of some tourist out for a jaunt. Another one for the tally - every tourist Sans could get groaning from the puns meant free ketchup for a month - not that he’d ever make Sans pay for a drink in any case. The company more than made up for the lost income.

 

“what? i got a  _ femur _ where those came from.”

 

“.....Sans.”

 

The skeleton sighed, skull tilting back dramatically. Grillby smiled. This was more like the Sans he loved. He wasn’t rolling over and letting Grillby tell him what to do, wasn’t shaking and shuddering. It was nice to see a flash of something familiar. Even after all this, Sans could still bring up the energy to annoy someone with his jokes. 

 

“fine, i’ll stop, but clearly you owe me another month free.”

 

The skull swooped down to face him, cheeky grin in place. 

 

“.....when we get…..back to Snowdin…..I will…..mark it on…..your tab.”

 

The skeleton pulled two finger guns on the flame, shooting them off with a quiet ‘pew pew’.

 

“thanks grillbz, knew i could count on you not to leave a fellow in the  _ cold.” _

 

Grillby’s only response was to slide the mug of tea across the table. Sans snatched it up with ease, the exchange one they had perfected over decades of practice. He sipped it, swirled it around in his mouth for a moment, then swallowed.

 

“whelp, it’s not ketchup...but i guess it will do. thanks.”

 

From his still-hunched stance in front of them, Gerson let out a wheeze, “Anytime, skeleton. Anytime.”


	12. Chapter 12

Grillby stared out Gerson’s front door at the frankly unsettling sight before him. The cavern hadn’t been all that wide to begin with...but now it was almost half again as small as before...well, at least for him it was.

 

“.....flooded.”

 

“Why, yes. Happens sometimes in these parts, though not for a good long while. I’d say we were overdo. Shame it happened while you were here; that water ain’t done rising yet, wah ha ha!”

 

Something round bumped into his lower back. There wasn’t enough force to sway him, let alone push him over the threshold, but it was a bit of a surprise. Thin sticks poked into his flames, following the curve of his waist to encircle as much of him as they could. He looked down at Sans, latched on tight, skull tilted back up towards him...well, over his shoulders, but close enough. The play of light on the almost-solid shadows that circulated in the skeleton’s skull was entrancing.

 

“how high is it, grillbz?” 

 

Curling spirals were highlighted, layers of cloud that moved and shifted and danced, like roiling stormclouds over rocky peaks in the dead dark of night. Honestly...this sight was far more beautiful...as much as it pained him, knowing why Sans’ sockets were empty...this patch of clouds which would never rain on him, which danced and lived and teemed with a untamable power and a certain mystery...well, it mesmerised him.

 

“grills? the water?”

 

He shook his head, ignoring the look on Gerson’s face behind him. As much as he would like to, he could not lose himself in Sans’ sockets now. He let his gaze sail over the rising wet, noting an echo flower that, moments before, had been dry was now submerged. How to describe this sight to Sans, who had never seen and never would see this cavern?

 

“.....it is still rising…..the cavern is…..almost circular…..seven metres in radius…..the entrance is…..two and a half?.....three meters wide.....the water is…..five…..or six metres…..up the far wall.....and rising.”

 

“so maybe 165 cubic metres of water so far?”

 

Grillby blinked at him. How...how had he…

 

“Well, the, um...the ground isn’t really even, and it’s not really circular...”

 

Huddled against the wall outside the door, Alphys fiddled nervously with her phone.

 

“s’not like i can see to get a better approximation, and it might be a bit of a  _ hoof _ to go out and measure it now.”

 

She snorted. Grillby felt quite lost...was that some kind of pun? If it was, he could not tell what Sans was using as his jumping off point. Grillby could not say he despised Sans’ puns...but unprovoked punning usually came out of emotional turmoil for the skeleton. Stars know he’d had enough of that lately for a thousand puns, but...he had been doing so well, outside of the almost-reflexive pun war with Gerson, and that hardly counted...was Sans worried about him?

 

“.....Gerson…..is there…..a back entrance to…..this cave?”

 

The old turtle peered over the flame’s shoulder at the rising expanse of water. He tut-tutted at the sight, “An old tunnel, goes up to that room just past Onion-san. Poor thing...tunnel’s pretty small, though. Can’t fit through it myself. You three will...hah! Well, you at least’ll have a rough go of it, Grillby. Not like that ever stopped you before, wah ha ha!”

 

“And...um, what ab-b-bout you, G-g-gerson?” Alphys looked up from her phone, anxiety filling her face

 

The turtle poked his head out and winked at the reptilian scientist, “Me? I’ve been living in these caves since before your great-grandparents were born. Little water ain’t gonna hurt me, wah ha ha!”

 

Grillby looked back at the old turtle...the lines of his face had fixed in that look of his. A thousand years might go by, but that ‘stubborn turtle isn’t going to budge’ face would always stay the same. He threw Gerson a salute, and got one in return. The old testudines swiveled round and started in toward the kitchen, mumbling about provisions and knapsacks under his breath. Some things never changed.

  
  


Alphys watched the flame and the skeleton move slowly into the recesses of the house, set on finding a set of clothes that actually fit Sans and could hold up to the heat around her lab. Sans...she really didn’t know what to make of the small skeleton. He seemed...odd, like there was something about him that wasn’t quite right. 

 

Well, yes, there were a lot of things about him that weren’t normal. He was blind, he seemed to be more magically gifted than a dozen other monsters put together, he came back from the dead on a regular basis, he had a mathematical genius surpassing her own, he’d faced a demonic human through countless RESETs, lost his brother...but there was something else, something she just couldn’t place.

 

“Monophobia.”

 

“What?” She spun around, snout bumping in hard plastron. Two hands pulled her into the kitchen, setting her down and brushing off her shoulders.

 

“Fear of being alone. You all were talking about those monsters from the CORE, and it got me thinking. Gaster built the place...why wouldn’t he live there? Monster was always obsessed with his work, and he’d hardly notice if that got pushed beyond the limits of normality. So, he’d be living there, in the CORE...and his kids with him.” 

 

She stared at him. The face he was wearing...up till now, every story she’d heard from...from  _ her _ , every meeting, every wink...he’d acted like a good old grandpa, the kind of monster who always had a joke or a story to share, enjoying the pleasures of life while he still could. This? This was the face of a monster who could calculate the time it took to sever a head down to the nanosecond, who could tell you the winner of a chess tournament before the players even sat down for the preliminary match. This was the face of a strategist, a tactician...a general. Someone who looked for the flaws in his forces to better plan out his method of attack.

 

“Now I knew Papyrus. Not well, but well enough. That skeleton had an obsession with other people’s opinions of him...not vanity per say, more...insecurity. Always looking to others for attention, reassurance...love. Pretty common in a baby, and he wouldn’t have been all that old, now, would he? Parents usually put a stop to that sort of thing before a kid gets too old...but Gaster hardly would have noticed. And Sans was only a child himself, hardly going to pick up on the fact his brother was a bit too...needy. So that CORE thingy feeds it up into an obsession, and you get a monster who craves other’s attention beyond all reason.”

 

“Now, Sans...he was a bit older, easy enough to tell. Beyond the baby stage, but...not an adult by any means. I’ve no doubt he noticed his father’s spiral into obsession. Heck, wouldn’t surprise me if he thought it was his fault for being a nuisance. That skeleton has the worst self-esteem of any monster I’ve seen in a while...and he’s depressed beyond reason. Now, everything he’s gone through with the RESETs  _ might _ account for that...at least, most of it. But he couldn’t have started out all that sane to begin with. No one just goes and starves themselves to death, not when there’s better ways to dust yourself.” 

 

“I remember those videos...those were the actions of a monster frantic to find someone else, anyone else. Well, that makes a certain amount of sense - he’d faced a human covered in dust through hundreds of LOADs until his own body gave out on him. But the way he clings to Grillby...the way you say he killed himself just before Gaster showed up...those are the actions of someone afraid of being alone.” 

 

“But...well, there’s more to it than that. He doesn’t just fear being left alone...he’s afraid if someone leaves his sight...they’ll never come back. Not just avoid him...but vanish, poof, gone without a trace, and all his memories of them would just be a lie. He’s afraid everything he knows...everything he loves...could be taken away in an instant...and he’d be thrust into a world where no matter what he does, it can’t come back.”

 

“Th-th-that’s-”

 

“Horrible? Yes. Makes sense for someone who remembers the RESETs...that kind of thing happens a lot. But him...he’s strong. Not physically, no. He’s got one of the most powerful wells of magic I’ve ever seen...enough to do just about anything. Enough that it would do just about anything he wanted...even if he didn’t realise what it was doing. Interference, that’s what we call it. The more powerful a monster, the more the world around them bends. Power like that, power enough to change things without even knowing? Only ever heard of it in Boss Monsters.” 

 

“Course, the Dreemurs weren’t the only Boss Monsters. Back in the day, there were a few hundred families...not that any of the rest made it down here. But every so often, a kid would be born with the SOUL of a Boss Monster to more normal parents. Usually had it pretty hard, since Boss Monsters need a power source to actually grow. Without the connection to their parents feeding them? Most died. Sometimes we’d figure it out early, get them tied up with a leyline or something...and ain’t that what that CORE thingy is, a leyline all wrapped up in machines?”

 

She stared at him, then at the wall where Sans’ and Grillby’s room would be, “You th-th-think-”

 

“Hah! I don’t think, missy, I know. That skeleton is a Boss Monster, right enough. A Boss Monster who fed off an unstable power supply for most of his life. Must have stopped when he went out Snowdin way, cause he’s still a kid, whatever they say. Oh, a mature kid, mentally at least. Brains grow faster than bones. Got something like the mind of an adult...scrambled a bit, but who ain’t? Be glad he left when he did, cause with power like that...if he’d stayed there, twisting under an obsession like that? He could have wiped the Underground out of history like he did his old man.”

 

She spun to face him. His one open eye stared at her with almost a look of pity.

 

“Boss Monsters have enough strength to pull that trick with the dust, although I’ve only ever heard of two who actually did. So, he dies. Dunno if he just starved to death or fell down the stairs or what, but he dies...and when he comes back, his Dad pushes him away. Work to do, no time to chat, that sort of thing. His Dad acts like he wishes he wasn’t there - might even have said it...and so Sans gets scared…and angry. Why shouldn’t he be there? Why didn’t Gaster care about him? Was he going to leave? What if he left? What if he never came back? What if Sans was left all alone, and nobody remembered to find him?” 

 

Her claws started shaking. It made sense, a horrible kind of sense...and just listening to the grayed out monsters could make your mind go twisty. If one could actually make other monsters think like them? Change them? That...that was...

 

“How many people even knew about the kid, anyway? His brother and Gaster...but has anyone else ever mentioned seeing a baby Sans?”

 

She brought them up to her ears, pressing on the flaps as hard as she could. It didn’t work...it never did...but the illusion provided some comfort. How...how could she listen to this? This...baring of a SOUL, of a life, that she...she barely knew. And this...

 

“He was terrified of being left alone, terrified of being forgotten...and he had more than enough magic to warp that into being. More than enough to make every monster in the Underground forget every memory they had of him and his family. Don’t know what triggered it...maybe Gaster went off to visit the King. Maybe he locked himself in his office. Maybe he got into some kind of accident. Doesn’t really matter. Something kept Gaster away for a bit too long, and Sans...Sans panicked. He was right there, too, right in the CORE. More than enough power to pull it off.” 

 

“Course, things like that wear off, over time. The stronger the memory, the harder it is to suppress - not your own, mind you, but other people’s. Seeing someone you once knew? Well, that’s bound to trigger some kind of response. So I remember. Grillby remembers. Sans...maybe he will, maybe he won’t. I doubt he will like this, though. If Gaster were around? Maybe. Maybe it’d even be worth it...gotta be some good memories in there. Course, I don’t know how long that CORE thingy was messing with their heads. Might be wrong...still, his head’s been jogged in a mighty bad way, and all the debris is floating to the top - and biggest of all is the fear. Monophobia. Fear of being alone.”

 

Her legs choose that moment to give out. She collapsed into a puddle of shaking scales on the tile floor, her tail swept around and clutched in her arms. He watched her for a minute, letting her take it in. 

 

“Scary, isn’t it? Knowing someone that broken can affect so much. I doubt he’ll do it again. Not with Grillby there. That old flame’s smarter than you’d think - he knows what’s up, even if he couldn’t put it into words. Hasn’t gone far from the skeleton since you showed up here. Not that he’d want to. Strongest bond I’ve seen in awhile, and that’s saying something.”

 

This...this was horrible, terrifying...how...why? Her mind stopped in its tracks, one stray thought loud and insistent that it be heard, that it was important! She vocalized it.

 

“Why did nob-b-body notice?”

 

Gerson looked down at her, mildly disappointed, “Influence like that ain’t-”

 

“No, not that-t-t. Um,” She tried to think how to phrase it, “You said that, um...some monsters remember the l-l-loops, so, um...why didn’t anyone notice? Even...even if they weren’t, um...RESETs? They...the ones I saw still felt...weird. Shock. Like...like something had happened which shouldn’t have...only, more than just a feeling. It was...magic? So, people w-w-would have felt it. So why didn’t they?”

 

He stared at her, but his expression shifted into growing confusion, the sort she felt when a program she’d thought was working perfectly suddenly gave her an answer that could not possibly be real. She pressed on, more and more questions coming to the front.

 

“Not only that, but...well, if he is...if he is a Boss Monster, wouldn’t...um, wouldn’t people notice? I...well, I knew Asg-g-gore, and you could, um, kinda tell? He...well, you c-c-could feel him, even...even when he wasn’t right there. Does that make sense? So...why didn’t people notice? Kids...kids can’t control their m-m-magic very well, so...so he would have...he would be, um, obvious? Why didn’t anyone notice?”

 

Gerson drew in a breath, opened his mouth...but nothing came out. It looked as though he was trying to find an explanation. Not like someone defending a pet theory against all evidence...no, he looked like he wanted an explanation, a complete explanation, and her questions were making him wonder if he hadn’t been barking up the wrong tree. Another thought occured.

 

“And...and, um...even if he...isn’t...a Boss Monster? He’s...he’s really powerful. Couldn’t...couldn’t people tell? Who...who helped him with his, um...his first burst of p-p-power? What about wh-wh-when he got sick? Magic...magic flares when we’re sick...didn’t anyone notice?”

 

“.....we did,” she turned her head, eyes meeting dim flames. Grillby leaned in the doorway, “.....Snowdin is…..was…..prideful. He…..they were…..strangers. Strangers…..and then not.”

 

“But...but…”

 

“.....Most of the monsters…..in Snowdin…..did not care. They could stay…..they could leave…..they were not ‘our problem’.....and when they were?.....when Sans…..flared?.....the only thing to do…..was wait. Papyrus…..he…..drained off Sans. Emotionally…..physically…..”

 

“How bad, Grillby?” Gerson was giving the flame a look Alphys couldn’t quantify.

 

“.....bad.”

 

“Th-th-that’s not very, um...helpful?” She stuttered. She really wanted to know what they were talking about...she thought she knew, but...it didn’t make any sense! Uneven bonds were...really, really rare, and really, really bad...everyone knew that...right?

 

Gerson and the flame hadn’t budged. She didn’t think they’d even noticed her words.

 

“That explains some of it...especially if he was siphoning off...how much would you say, Grillby?”

 

The flame dimmed, “.....most…..nearly all. Sans…..has only one HP…..has had…..for more than…..thirty years.”

 

Gerson scowled, “And none of you thought to step in? No, don’t answer that. I didn’t mean it - know how Snowdiners could get, and you? You’ve always been a softy, wah ha ha!” 

 

Gerson spun on his heels, ignoring Grillby’s sparks at the comment in favor of rustling through the cabinets again. He grabbed a balled up...thing...Alphys wasn’t sure what it was, but he tossed it to Grillby, who set it on the counter. The old turtle threw a remark to her over his shoulder, “How volatile the magic in that CORE thingy?”

 

She jumped, “Um...other than the, um...leaks? Surges, somet-t-times. Never more than, um...a few hundred kilojoules? And...ebbs, too. Not as often...they, um...cause p-p-power outages.”

 

Gerson laughed, a kettle clanging onto the tile as he slapped his knees, “Knew it! Just like a leyline, eh Grillby? No one would notice a RESPAWN near something like that, and my guess is they’d be pretty localized...hmm, and if they were actually living inside the thing, kid’d just sync up with the thing anyway. Not even old Gaster could tell a child’s surge from a leyline burst...not if they were linked, anyways.”

 

Grillby’s flames...died. Just for a moment, he was gone, flames vanished, leaving only a husk built of liquid, glowing embers. When the flames returned, the embers could still be seen surrounding the base of every stalk.

 

“.....RESPAWN.”

 

Gerson leaned back slowly, joints popping loudly, and grinned at the stunned flame, “Yep. Obvious, once you think about it.”

 

Grillby quivered. He looked shaken, uncertain, adrift...she could empathise, even if she could not understand what had so affected him.

 

“.....No.”

 

Gerson’s grin grew wider, “Yep.”

 

There was a blur of trailing flames. Gerson was pressed against the front of the stove, blue flames lighting behind him, curling and cupping his shell. The tips merged with the suddenly roaring flames of Grillby, trapping the old testudines in a hoop of fire.

 

“.....NO.”

 

Gerson’s grin remained fixed, but a bead of sweat made its way down from his forehead. After nearly a minute locked in this staredown, he shrugged, “Fine then. Call it whatever you want, but you and I both know that that’s what it is.”

 

The blue flames surged back into Grillby, leaving him almost as bright and full a flame as he’d been a few minutes earlier. He turned his back on Gerson, snatching the...whatever it was...off the counter and stalking to the door, where he hesitated. He looked down at her, flickered, then back at the door. He cast one final remark over his shoulder at Gerson, whose grin was starting to look more than a little crusty. 

 

“.....Thank you for…..your hospitality. I hope…..when we next meet…..things will be…..well…..for the both of us.”

 

Gerson stared as the flame pulled open the door, then softly spoke, “Bye old friend. Hope I’ll be seeing you on this side of dust again, too.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm going to be studying abroad in a foreign country for the next two months or so. I probably won't have the time to write as much, and posting might be a bit tricky. By no means does this mean I have finished writing this.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still studying abroad, but have a chapter!

Claustrophobia wasn’t really a thing with monsters. Some of the older ones, maybe, but so many years trapped in a living tomb inured you to it. Good thing, because there were plenty of side passages like this one where there was barely enough room to walk. Grillby kept reminding himself that he’d never been claustrophobic in his life as he crawled his way down the passage behind his lover and friend. 

 

That speech of Gerson’s wouldn’t leave his head, the overheard words on repeat unfortunately crystal clear. 

 

_ No one would notice a RESPAWN near something like that. _

 

It made his flames snap and pop. How dare he! Gerson didn’t know Sans, not really know him, not like Grillby did. He hadn’t been there...he hadn’t watched the monster’s struggles through the years to just get by. Sans was...Sans wasn’t  _ special _ , not like that. He was the most wonderful, kind, sweet, amusing monster in the Underground, yes. The way he cared about everyone so deeply, doing everything he could to make their lives better, never making a big fuss about gestures that anyone else would have considered momentous...he was incredibly, unbelievably wonderful, but not  _ special _ . 

 

Sans had had problems - oh so many problems - that he struggled to overcome. He had days where everything he said or did just came out wrong, days that took everything he had just to trudge through, days where just a few words with his brother sent him spiraling into depression. Sans was  _ normal. _ There was nothing  _ extraordinary _ about him, no glow of power, no aura of destiny. Sans was just...Sans. He wasn’t the kind of monster that legends were made of. He wasn’t the kind of monster whose actions changed lives. He...he…

 

Epic stories meant epic deaths. Grillby had heard enough myths, met enough myths, to know that that phrase always held true. The stories of monsters who’d been credited with RESPAWNs...well, they were the stories that ended in martyrs, coronations, and dust. Every monster who had been confirmed to have RESPAWNED had, at the end of their lives, died an epic death that changed the world forever. Sans...Sans wasn’t important like that. Sans wasn’t...he wasn’t…Sans wasn’t some kind of pawn, a chess piece to be protected and sacrificed in some great game! Sans was just Sans, an adorable, dependable lazybones who spent so much of his life in pain that he thought about it in terms of what he could work through. Up until the human had fallen down, the only lives Sans’ death would have changed that deeply would have been his and Papyrus’. Gerson was wrong, and that was simply the final word on the matter.

 

* * *

 

Alphys’ mind raced through everything that had happened in the last few days, replaying over and over every interaction with the skeleton, every piece of information Grillby had shared, all the bombshells Gerson had dropped. She could still feel the tension in her soul, half expecting to see an attack flying at her out of nowhere, half terrified a smiling figure in dusty stripes would pop up out of some rippling portal and rip her apart. Her pulse raced, her breath heaved, and arcs of yellow electricity sparked between her claws. She was on edge, and she had no idea how to stop, how to cope, how to handle it. She’d never been good with pressure.

 

“heya alph, you’re really  _ lighting up _ the caverns tonight.”

 

She jumped, a trail of lightning hanging in the air describing her turn. The skeleton’s skull was fixed on her still-sparking fingertips as if he could actually see them. The flame behind him was tensing up, attention flicking between her and the skeleton. He looked as though he wasn’t sure which was the bigger concern. 

 

She felt the nervous sweat beading down her face as she tried to get her magic to calm down. A nervous laugh escaped her lips, “Y-y-yeah. That’s, um...that’s pretty funny.”

 

She really didn’t know how to react to him anymore, not after what Gerson had said, and she really hadn’t known how to interact from the start. She was an awkward mess of socially inept garbage, and he was a traumatised wreck of overpowered neurosis; neither of them should be allowed to have conversations unsupervised, let alone have a conversation with one another. Let alone have a conversation when she was so keyed up. Let alone-

 

“okay. hold up. that was bad, even for me...you know you don’t  _ have _ to like my jokes, right? heck, grillby groans at, like, half of them, and pa- papy- hng.”

 

Sans just sort of...crumpled in on himself, blue magic bubbling from the rim of his socket...wound...hole…thing. Dark empty passage into the smoky center of his skull with ragged edges. There needed to be a better word for it...gap? Too simple. mono-hole? That was...she realised her efforts to avoid getting involved weren’t working. The sight of the small skeleton on the floor of the cave, rocking himself back and forth in the light of the supportive Grillby...it was tearing her to pieces. Sans’ grief reminded her oh so much of her own.

 

She stumbled over to the rock wall, curling up against it and letting tears of her own fall free. She really was a screw-up, wasn’t she? She couldn’t even-

 

“.....STOP THAT…..BOTH OF YOU!”

 

The flame surged higher. She flinched back from the blaze, noticing that the other small monster did the same. Grillby settled back down, but his shifting glare did not leave.

 

“.....grief is…..all to the good…..but this…..self hatred…..it is not healthy. Neither of them would have wanted this! Papyrus and Undyne,” Both of them flinched, “.....were two of the most…..confident…..exuberant monsters I have ever known. They would be…..disappointed in you, Alphys…..Sans. None of this…..is your fault, and you…..you need to stop this!”

 

She stuttered, “Grillby, I...but it is! It’s….I saw them, on...on the cameras. I should have...I…”

 

Sans chuckled darkly, a sound that made her wince in sympathetic, empathetic pain, “what, stopped them? you were all the way in hotland. you weren’t there. you didn’t shake their dusty hand and act like everything would be okay. you didn’t-”

 

“.....STOP!” 

 

The sound of crackling flames echoed and re-echoed from walls, flames, and flowers. The tall monster turned towards her, a pillar of frustrated plasma burning at the water-heavy air.

 

“Alphys, you…..evacuated everyone…..the moment you knew…..the danger. I…..did not know Undyne…..as well as you. Still I know…..you could not have stopped her. She…..she was stubborn, selfless…..determined. There was…..nothing you could have said…..to make her stop.” 

 

The flame knelt before Sans, hands resting on either shoulder.

 

“And Sans…..do not pretend you did not try. You spoke to them…..you warned your brother…..and he refused to listen. You…..came to the bar…..to get help, to warn us…..and he was gone…..before an hour had past.” 

 

He looked back over to her, the hands still laying on Sans squeezing once, “He made his choice…..so did she…..they would not want you hurting yourselves…..because of it. So stop.”

 

The two smaller monsters looked abashed. Alphys refused to meet the flame’s gaze, and, as she looked down, she could see Sans’ skull had drooped noticeably. He seemed almost...frightened. From a distance he looked as if he was almost vibrating, tiny tremors coursing through his bones. Grillby began to rub his skull soothingly, but the skeleton seemed too keyed up to notice, the puddle of blue tears beneath him growing ever deeper.

 

Alphys felt a pang of empathy shoot through her. She’d never met him before this past week, but the small skeleton was a lot like her. He knew his math, he carried the world on his shoulders, and he was an absolute mess when he made a mistake. If that were her, right now the only thing she’d be wanting was a dark, quiet place to curl up and cry while she sorted through every mistake and faux pas she’d ever made, wincing the whole while. It would be days before she’d be able to handle talking to anyone other than Undyne, and even talking to her would take everything she had...she wondered if Sans would be the same way.

 

Stars, this was a really bad idea, wasn’t it? Even if he wasn’t as socially anxious as she was, bringing the traumatised skeleton into the labs where hundreds of monsters still hid from the human was stupid raised to the power of suicidal. Although many families had found the courage to move out, most of the population of Snowdin and Waterfall was still staying in the depths. There would be no calm in there, no safe place for the skeleton to unwind, no feasible way to avoid reminding him every five minutes of the tragedy he seemed to feel personally responsible for. Sans would be surrounded by monsters, many of whom had known his brother; monsters who would want to ask questions...this was a horrible idea. There was no way she could let Sans and Grillby stay at the Lab.

 

But at the same time she didn’t want to let him far from her sight. As nervous as he made her, as dangerous as he was, even without everything Gerson had suggested, she knew the feeling of failed responsibility too well. She knew what it could do to a monster. She couldn’t let Sans be alone like this...even if he didn’t so obviously fear that very thing. She couldn’t handle the responsibility of knowing she’d left him alone to die. She didn’t want to feel the guilt herself if, knowing what she did, he snapped and himself...or someone else. She wanted to keep watch, even if she wasn’t the best monster for the task. But then, who was?

 

“...Grillby, um...I, um...I’ve b-b-been thinking. Do you think you c-c-could take Sans to the, um...hotel? We’re...going to relocate as m-m-many monsters as we can to the C-c-capitol, but...someone has to watch over the p-p-path, right? And the hot-t-tel is comfortable, and...empty, now. No one would m-m-mind if you just t-t-took over. Do...do you two think you can do that? I’d...really appreciate it.”

 

She could feel their stares on the back of her neck as she idly chuffed at the gravel floor. Well...one stare and one kinda stare? Fixed attention of some variety focused in her direction coming from a blind skull. How did he even know where she was to look?...Oh. She tried to get the miniscule strands of lightning twining around her claws to settle down. They refused, opting instead to try to form a braid.

 

“.....yes,” She looked up, gratitude in her eyes, “Show us the way?” She nodded quickly, and they set out.

 

* * *

 

Sans’ entire attention was focused on the warm hand in his, guiding him along a path he couldn’t see. There was a pebble that had wormed it’s way into his borrowed shoes, but it didn’t matter. All he cared about was the warmth in front of him and the flames tickling between his ulna and radius. Wherever they were going didn’t matter. Whatever Alphys was rambling on about didn’t matter, despite the occasional prick in his skull of a memory. He’d been through Hotland before, even if Grillby hadn’t. All of Alphys’ descriptions only reminded him of what he couldn’t see.

 

He’d much rather focus on the quiet heat pressing against him. Funny, how he could feel it despite the oppressive temperature of the magma, but there was something about Grillby’s heat that had always stuck out to him as...welcoming, cozy, nostalgic,  _ warm _ . Heh.

 

He bumped into Grillby’s signature vest, warm satin crinkling under his teeth. He’d been glad when Grillby put it back on again, even if he couldn’t see it...well, maybe  _ because _ he couldn’t see it. He knew exactly what it looked like, so he didn’t need his vision to imagine the flame’s shape. It was one thing he could still picture in this dusty world devoid of life and song. 

 

“whatcha doin there, grillbz?  _ enjoying the view _ ?”

 

Sans wondered if it still counted as a pun. It was kind of dark for his usual fare, playing off his lack of sight. Maybe Grillby was staring at him? Then it would still be wordplay even without the darker aspect. Probably, anyway. He’d never been good at the whole ‘flirting’ thing. Hell, the first time he’d talked to Grillby everyone had thought he was hitting on the flame! He’d been too embarrassed to go back in for weeks, after he’d overheard one of the dogs snickering about it. He still blushed when he remembered the stupid pun.

 

“Oh! That’s the CORE. It’s p-p-pretty cool, right?”

 

Oh. Guess it was depressing humor after all. At least he knew where they were now - that perfect overlook just past his station. Sans wondered if all the hot dogs, hot cats, etc. had gone bad yet. Probably, but would they still stink after all this time? It’d been, what, nearly a year since...since…

 

Grillby squeezed his hand, pulling him out of the endless pit of chilly grief and darkness that seemed to be waiting everywhere of late. The flame didn’t say anything, didn’t move, but it was enough to bring Sans back. He squeezed back, not really sure how this was supposed to go but remembering somewhere that that was probably the right move. Grillby didn’t say anything, but he didn’t let go, either, so there was that.

 

Standing still in the quiet dark was getting boring really fast. He wondered what would happen if he started singing. Alphys would be creeped out, probably, and he really didn’t like the feeling he got when she sparked at him. He just...wasn’t supposed to be that threatening. He was lazy, humorous, and up till…well, he’d been pretty happy that most people seemed to overlook him. 

 

He didn’t want them ignoring him exactly, but...one of the happiest days he could remember was the first time he’d walked into Grillby’s and everyone had known his name. He was routine, he was ordinary. Him  _ not _ being there would make them worry. He...kinda liked that, knowing someone would notice if he was gone. Now...now everyone else was gone, and he was left alone in the dark, inky bla-

 

Far, far away in the distance, a pulse of light shone just that tiny bit brighter. 

 

Flicker flicker FLASH flicker flicker SPARKLE flicker GLINT FLASH. 

 

How had he never noticed it before? It was entrancing...there was actually something out there, something he could see that wasn’t fading away after a few moments. 

 

Flicker flicker FLASH flicker flicker SPARKLE flicker GLINT FLASH.

  
  


It was raw, and yet distilled, unsteady and yet somehow...permanent. Grounding, centering, like an anchor he’d never known he’d missed.

 

Flicker flicker-

 

“S-Sans, stop!”

 

The grip around his hand was tight enough to make his bones squeak. Grillby was dragging at him, pulling him back from...from…empty air met his dangling foot, heat billowing up to meet the thin bones of his leg. Below him, magma crackled and hissed, a symphony of molten pressure and dangerous heat. The only thing keeping him from tumbling into the roasting, melted rock was the fiery hand desperately dragging on his.

 

“.....Sans, please, talk to us. We…..are here, we are…..Sans, please…..stop this, Sans…..Sans you are scaring me…..”

 

Sans fell back from the edge, scrambling away from the opressive heat. What...what had he been about to do? That...he  _ knew _ how much magma hurt, how long it took to die. Why would he ever choose to die like that again? And in any case, for once, Sans didn’t really want to die. This...emptiness, this cold and dusty echo in the magic around him...it was horrible, yes, but Sans...Sans had Grillby, and he had a promise. He really didn’t want to die!

 

His spine bumped into something scaly, stopping his backwards scuttle across the rock. Padded knees over taloned feet knocked into his ribcage, rattling him. He flinched.

 

“sorry, sorry, sorry sorry so-”

 

“It-t-t’s alright, S-s-sans. Just...just don’t scare us like th-th-that again.”

 

A trembling hand patted his shoulder awkwardly. That was Alphys, wasn’t it? Stars she was short. Heh. Always nice  _ bumping  _ into another height-challenged monster. The Underground seemed rather  _ short  _ on members of that fraternity...sorority...was there a satisfactory non-gendered word for a fel...fellowship. There it was, he knew he’d remember it if he tried hard enough. Now...why had he been trying to remember it again?

 

“Do you, um...do you think w-w-we can go on now? I mean, if you d-d-don’t want to, that’s fine too, and, um, I-”

 

The comforting flame drew nearer. Sans was starting to become aware of the way his own magic’s hum picked up with every inch the flame drew closer, and it was nice. Even if he couldn’t see the flame, he would still know he was there. Bit like a human game he remembered Papyrus telling him about. Something about a barometer? Or was it a geiger counter. Meh.

 

Sans became aware of an expectant silence hanging around him. He felt the nervous sweat trickle down his skull, “um...what?”

 

Flames pressed against his humorous, slipping under to cup the long bones and lift him into the air. Crapthisstopdon’tnononononodon’tplease-

 

“.....ans, Sans, SANS!” Grillby’s voice exploded a few inches in front of his skull. He whimpered, and flames wrapped around him, engulfed him. He burrowed into the contact, letting it pull him back. The hands around his arms were flames, dammit, not bone, not...not  _ him _ . They were actually supporting him, not dangling him, and the voice was worried, not cutting. Not cruel. It was Grillby, he was...Sans was safe, this was safe, he was fine.

 

“.....Please show us…..the way again, Alphys.”

 

Through the growing grey of exhaustion and impending sleep, he heard the claws pitter against roasted stone, accompanied by the near-silent scraping of scale on scale. She was nervous, then.

 

“Oh, um...yeah. This way.”

 

Sans let himself slip into a doze, lulled by the steady motion of the amazing flame. Soon, the sound of snores could just be heard over the hiss of steam off the magma and the footsteps of the two monsters walking along the baked rock high above the molten earth below. A pebble broke off the path, falling, falling, falling. It hit the magma, wavering in the heat as it slowly broke the surface tension of the liquid and sunk down into the boiling rock below. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back from study abroad, so hopefully I'll be able to return to a more frequent updating schedule. I want to try for at least one new update every two weeks, although more frequent would be favorite. So I shall be writing more soon! Yeah!

The grip on his phalanges had become less and less gentle the longer they walked. Sans knew it was only exhaustion. They’d been walking for what felt like days, and even if the heat of Hotland didn’t exhaust Grillby the same way it would him, the emotional rollercoaster they’d been going through couldn’t have helped. It was his fault, either way. He was such a-

 

No, he needed to stop that, he’d promised he’d stop that. Even if it was true, even if he felt Grillby would be better off with anyone but him, hell, better off alone - he needed to stop thinking about it. He needed to- he needed- he-

 

Crap, he was bad at this. He’d never been good at those games, the ones where someone would mention a pink elephant and you weren’t supposed to think about it. Anytime he’d got in a rut before, he’d been pretty much stuck. Pap-  _ he _ had always been good at pulling him out, coming up with something else Sans needed to worry about, some new puzzle to try or recipe to hunt down. Maybe...maybe he could do something like that for Grillbz? 

 

He’d done it before. Little gifts, little gestures he’d always thought were just sort of friendly, the kind of things that would make someone’s day, or even their entire year. He admired Grillby, felt indebted to Grillby for the tab and all the midnight talks. He’d...wow, he’d been in love with the flame for a while, hadn’t he? Now that he knew he could, now that he knew what it meant when his SOUL stuttered or sang, so many emotions he’d never been able to describe made sense. It was kinda a relief.

 

Another tripping step made him stumble into Grillby’s backside, his own half-conscious shuffling coming to a halt. The hand in his gripped tighter, to the point where Sans would be wincing if Grillby squeezed just a hair’s breadth more. He pulled his smile wider and pushed the pressure aside. It didn’t matter. 

 

“Oh, I’m...I’m sorry, are you alright? I-i-i didn’t mean to, I, um, I, sorry. I’ll just...door, key, key, where? Oh, here. Key. Um, I d-d-don’t know which, um, room this is? But, um, they’re all pretty nice, so...just go on down there. The restaurant probably has some food, if you...I mean, there’s...if you go p-p-past the desk, there’s...they always kept the cupboards...filled...um, yeah. I’ll just leave.”

 

The sound of Alphys’ retreating footsteps was quickly overwhelmed by the splash of water on fabric. Sans wondered when it was that overgrown calculator had first put up the fountain that so completely failed, in every respect, to be at all cute. Or appealing. Or functional. Was it before or after the disastrous third movie? Somehow, he thought he could live without finding out. It would be a tragic blow, but in the end, he doubted it would be enough to carry him off. 

 

Heh. He probably shouldn’t be treating his own death like some kind of a joke, but really, it was kinda hilarious, wasn’t it? The way no matter what happened, no matter what he did to himself, here he was, brought right back to the worthless- no. Not worthless, not with Grillby here. Not with everything he’d learned. Unbalanced, tragic, horrific, depressing, all those things and more. But worthless, nope, that it wasn’t.

 

The hand tugged, and Sans followed, hoping they’d finally be able to get some sleep. Grillby probably wasn’t as  _ dead _ beat, heh, as him. Why was that funny again? 

 

...Stars could he use a nap. 

 

Mechanisms clicked and slid, scraping loudly in a way that spoke of metal-fatigue. Or maybe it was just grit in the tumblers. Either way, the entire building was probably filled with locks and things in a similar state of disrepair. Maybe he could root around for an oil can and- no. That was stupid, even for him. Walking around this sham of a building blind, let alone actually trying to take care of it, was just asking for trouble. 

 

The door creaked open. Sans was startled as Grillby practically yanked him off his feet going in.

 

“hey, grillbz, wha- woah!”

 

Sans stumbled to his knees with the force of Grillby’s second tug. Despite his best efforts, he still managed to lose his grip on the flame’s hand. Now he was collapsed on the surprisingly soft carpet, in a completely unfamiliar room, with no idea whatsoever of where his bondmate was. Also, a growing cavern of a feeling that maybe the flame had pushed himself too far.

 

“grillz? throw me a  _ bone _ here, i’m completely  _ in the dark _ . you’re okay, right?”

 

The dull crackle of flames was his only reply. He tried again, panic growing, “grillby? please say something. a grunt. a sigh. hell, you c-c-can even y-y-yell at me if you w-w-want, just...t-t-talk to me. please? what’s w-w-wrong?”

 

Barely audible above the pop of plasma came a single, quiet word, “.....fine…..” 

 

It did not reassure him. The way it faded into nothing, the way Grillby’s heat faded with it...it  _ chilled him to the bone. _

 

Sans swept his hand over the carpet in front of him, feeling his way closer to the source of both sounds and heat. His phalanges caught in the musty silk of a bed. He felt up the side of the sheets until he found the top of the bed. He stood, shakily, not so much leaning on the bed as clinging to it. When he decided he was a stable as a blind sack of bones was likely to get, he began inching his way closer to the divot of collapsed warmth that was his lover.

 

In his mind, Sans was frantically reviewing the little healing magic he knew. It wasn’t enough, it would never be enough, he’d never been good enough at it to do anything. Half the things he knew would frequently backlash onto him, doubling the number of injured monsters in the room. It was depressing and he hated it. This was why he ne- no, stop. Focus.

 

Did he know anything that wasn’t likely to blow up in his face? Something simple, maybe - well, even more simple? There was one thing...why not? He decided to try something that  _ he _ ...Gaster? Was that the name Grillby had used?...Gaster had once told him about. It hadn’t worked at the time, but maybe now? He dredged up the memory of the words.

 

_ Think of a pair of glasses. The intent of glasses is to help you see, so make use of that concept. Imagine a pair of glasses built out of green magic. Feel them slide into place over your sockets; let them sit there. Let them help you see where it is the green magic is needed. Let them show you the weakest points in a monster’s body, let them show you where you need to work. Or at least, where someone needs to go to work. It is not all that dissimilar to CHECKing, although much less useful in battle, as it shows nothing of ATK or DEF. If you are determined to fail at the healing itself, perhaps this task will not be too much for you. _

 

He could do that, right? Sure, it hadn’t worked back then, but he hadn’t  _ needed _ it to then. Anyway, he’d actually CHECKed someone now, in a real battle. The ki- nope. Not gonna think about that now. Nuh uh. Green-tinted glasses, that was all that was on his mind. Green-tinted glasses with gold-plated frames. He’d always thought those were neat. Green-tinted glasses in gold frames sliding down the sides of his skull, resting in front of his sockets. Hold them up with imaginary tape. There, that should do it.

 

Sans ‘opened’ his sockets to a swirl of angry colors dancing all around him; red and yellow and green and blue being dragged by brilliant white farther and farther down into a blinding mass of light, swirling with both every color and none, not even a hundred meters away. It was huge and massive and gigantic and overpowering and enormous and big and…

 

Sans ripped the ‘glasses’ off his skull and heaved them across the room, shaking and panting in fear, choking on a sob. His SOUL screamed at him, his head pounded, and his magic buzzed and glitched with power in a way he’d never seen it do before. Everything hurt, everything throbbed and spiked and ached and it  _ hurt _ . He just let it, losing himself in the pain and the fear and the lack of control. Just once, just  _ once _ , he’d like to be able to heal someone and  _ not _ end up in crippling pain. Just once!

 

Breathe, Sans, just breathe. This isn’t too bad...wait, no. That was a lie. This hurt a  _ skele-ton _ . Heh. That didn’t help. Why didn’t that help? Puns always worked, they’d been the perfect distraction from all his problems for as long as he could remember. Why weren’t they working now?

 

Well, it didn’t matter. He’d just have to deal with it; Grillby needed him, so he’d muddle through. Not like he hadn’t dealt with worse, right? Right. Don’t think about it. Just do...okay, first order of business: decide on what to do next.

 

If he couldn’t figure out what was wrong, what Grillby needed, maybe he could just feed him? Feeding sick people was a thing, right? Grillby had certainly seemed to think so before. It couldn’t hurt to try. 

 

There, now he had a plan. Feed Grillby. Good plan. Excellent plan. How the hell was he supposed to get food?

 

Sans culinary knowledge extended to hot dogs, hot cats, other hot animals, and ketchup. That was it, apart from one dream he’d had about fried snow, and a spectacularly failed attempt at a pie. In short, he knew nothing. Not a problem, seeing as the ingredient for the few things he could cook weren’t likely to be hiding in the bedside table. Where was he even supposed to find the food?

 

Hadn’t Alphys mentioned something about a pantry somewhere? Yeah...out in the lobby. He...he could do that. He’d made it through his broth- through the puzzle and cliff fields of Snowdin. He could navigate the MTT Resort lobby. Probably.

 

Heh. Guess he’d find out, wouldn’t he?

 

* * *

 

Sans tried to kick the door of their room shut with his foot, hampered by a complete inability to see it and arms overflowing with some kind of food. Eh, it was fine where it was. Not like anyone was gonna sneak into their room, now, were they? Yeah, no, the door was fine. He had bigger fish to  _ fry _ .

 

Heh, yeah. That was good. Who’d a thunk that MTT resort stockpiled bags and bags of pre-made fries? At least they  _ felt _ like fries. Probably uncooked if they were fries, but still. It was food.

 

Would eating fries made by someone other than Grillby be cheating on him? Nah, no one made them like he did, so it didn’t count. If they were actually  _ tasty _ , that would be a whole other story, but come on. These were MTT fries. They probably had glitter on them. Sans was safe.

 

Okay, now, shuffle feet slowly across the carpeted floor like a cliched walking human corpse from one of those hilarious monster movies. Do not drop the fries while shuffling. Again. You got this, Sans, no  _ bones _ about it. Heh.

 

Was the room colder than when he left it? Well, he did leave the door open, so...but Grillby had been in here the whole time. An hour, at least, given how pitifully slow he’d been walking. The heated air around Grillby should have had more than enough time to circulate and raise the ambient temperature of the room at least a few degrees if Grillby was anywhere near his normal temperature...crap.

 

Sans dropped the bag onto the edge of the bed, crawling up beside the flame. He stretched shaking hands out along the shimmering line of his bond. Finally, he reached him.

 

Grillby was cool to the touch. Not freezing, thank the Stars, not even luke warm, but  _ way _ too cool for Sans’ sanity. It  _ chilled _ him to the  _ bone _ . Heh. 

 

His phalanges tapped along the seam of Grillby’s vest until they found his shoulders. He latched on, squeezing tighter and tighter, shaking the flame, desperate to get Grillby to wake up.

 

“grillz? hey, grillbz, wake up. i got you some food. dunno what it is. might be fries. i know they won’t be as good as yours, but, hey, it’s food...come on, grillby. wakey wakey. i know we’ve got all the time in the underground to  _ burn _ , but...sorry, that just sorta s-s-slipped out? you can get m-m-mad at me, come on, grillz. that...that was a bad one. ya gotta have s-s-some kinda reaction to it. lemme see. i p-p-promise i won’t laugh...please? please?”

 

...but nobody came.

 

Sans was frantic now, cold wet streaks of tears rolling down the fused joint of his jaw.He wiped them away, the bones of his arm not soaking up the tears as well as fabric would have. Stars did he miss his hoodie...where had it even ended up? Probably back at Grillby’s place. Or in the Snow. Somewhere he couldn’t go now,  _ lost  _ in the past. Heh. Maybe it had even found some of Papy-

 

He sucked in a breath, ribs rattling. Not now. Please, not now. He...he could cry later, okay? Just...he just had to take care of Grillby first. After that. Then he could break down. Yeah. After Grillby. 

 

Okay, so - he sniffed again - so Grillby wasn’t gonna wake up right no. He could deal with that. All that was needed was a bit of energy. Just enough to get him moving so he could eat something, anything. Sans could manage that, he’d been doing it for decades. Just...enough...but how much would be enough for Grillby? He...maybe he should keep going. Just until Grillby woke up. Yeah, that would work. Yeah.

 

* * *

 

Grillby floundered in darkness, his flames eaten up by the cold, damp mass around him. It felt like he was drowning in magma, only much, much colder. Definitely not pleasant. Keeping afloat was so exhausting...maybe he should just let himself sink in It was not as though he could see any other options.

 

Suddenly, a shaft of white and blue shot down beside him. It was an attack bone, a shape he’d recognise anywhere, blue fire edged in bright yellow-gold haloing the pearly shaft. He smiled. Sans. He grabbed the lifeline and held on.

  
  


Blue light, alternating with yellow, flared around him and in him. Grillby gasped, jolting upright What was-

 

Chilly, shivering bones wrapped around his chest, “grillby, you were...you were...please, don’t do that again!”

 

Instinctively he hugged Sans closer to him. The tremors in his lovely skeleton eased, but all the while Grillby was examining his own flames. 

 

Every one of them, without exception, was gilded in blue. Not the blue of extreme heat, nor that of alcoholic spills, but the familiar shade of blue that so utterly screamed Sans. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen his flames tinged with his lover’s color, but the last...the last time it had been the flames’ cores, not their edges. 

 

The outermost area of his flames were always the first affected by  _ outside _ influences. The only times he’d ever seen them colored by a magic other than his own had been variations on the color green. Always preceded by a healing. This…

 

“.....Sans, did you…..” he did not want to ask this, he did not want to  _ have _ to ask this,  “.....did you give me some of your magic…..through out bond? While I was…..asleep?”

 

Sans pulled out of his happy den under Grillby’s arm and tilted his skull to face Grillby’s head, “um...yeah? you were-”

 

Grillby’s flames exploded with anger. Sans backed away, mouth tensing up. He didn’t care if Sans was angry or afraid. Right now he was too furious with the skeleton to care. 

 

“WHY?!!”

 

Sans flinched from the roar, “y-y-you weren’t waking up, and i-”

 

“I was SLEEPING! Other people do that, you know, even if we don’t spend as much time at it as you. WE just wake YOU up, we never FORCE THOUGH A BOND to do it!”

 

Sans was still backing away, slower now, his shaking building back up again, “i t-t-tried, grillbz, i was-”

 

Grillby bared his firey fangs and pointed wildly at his own blue-tinted chest, “I KNOW WHAT YOU TRIED! YOU- you- Sans, don’t you know that that is WRONG? It’s just…..so wrong, I…..”

  
  


The skeleton’s face shifted into a look of confusion, “wrong? but...but i used to, when p-pap-”

 

Grillby flared, ignoring the hitch in Sans’ breath, “I KNOW! You fed his bond ALL THE TIME, and look where that ended up. He was DRAINING you.”

 

Now it was Sans’ turn to scowl, “so? he  _ needed _ it, he-”

 

“He needed none of it. Tell me, Sans, how often did you go more than twenty-four hours WITHOUT MESSING WITH HIS SOUL?”

 

Sans growled, low and deep, “plenty of times.”

 

Grillby folded his arms, “Like when?”

 

“like…” Sans scowl slipped for a moment, then returned, “plenty of times! so what? what does that have to do with this?”

 

Grillby sputtered, “What does that - Sans, you were ADDICTED  to him, to  _ feeding _ him, and he to you! If it was you who had dusted instead of him-”

 

For the first time ever, Grillby heard Sans yell., tryl yell. It was broken and gravely and hardly as loud as the voice he would use in a crowded bar, but for Sans it was a yell nevertheless.

 

“IF IT WERE ME I’D BE GLAD! HE DESERVES TO LIVE SO MUCH MORE THAN ME. PAPYRUS...papyrus…”

 

Sans curled up in a coughing, rattling heap of bones. Grillby reached out a hand to comfort the hurting skeleton, “.....and how long do you think he’d last without you?”

 

Sans pulled away from his hand the moment it made contact. His face was covered in tears and twisted with pain, emotional and physical. The partly-healed cracks around his shattered sockets had broken open once more, spider webbing up and over the dome of his skull to beyond the edge of Grilby’s vision. His flames fell immediately, not that Sans could see. 

 

“ **don’t touch me.** ”

 

Grillby shivered at the unwelcome return of Sans’ dark tone, “Sans-”

 

“ **you don’t get to say that.** you d-d-didn’t know him, not like me. he’d be fine.  **he didn’t need me** .  **you- you don’t n-n-need me. no one needs me.** why would they? i could just disappear and nobody would know.  **nobody would care** . heh…”

 

Grillby was terrified now. No, no, no, not again, please, what had he done, no, no this, please...stars, he couldn’t...he couldn’t do this again. no, no no…

 

He reached out for Sans-

 

Sans jumped away, rattling loudly, “ **stop it** ,” His bony hand reached out behind him to brace-

 

It collapsed into empty air. Sans tumbled off the bed, sickening cracks joining the thump of bone on carpet. Before Grillby could even move, Sans was standing again, unsteadily, but standing nonetheless. The broken skeleton backed away slowly.

 

Grillby’s SOUL ached at the look on Sans’ face, fury and pain and self-hatred and grief and rejection and the growing set of determination.

 

Grillby threw himself at the edge of the bed, legs and arms flailing beneath him - but he was too late. Without another word, Sans was gone. The door swung wildly in his wake, leaving only floating motes of dust behind. Sans was gone.

 

* * *

 

Sans ran down the corridor faster than he’d ever run before. His bones creaked with every lunge, but he ignored it. Dust swirled in the air as he passed, but he never saw. He ran on, blind and broken and tearing himself apart piece by piece, inside and out. He was stupid, he was and idiot, why did he think anything he did mattered at all?

 

If Grillby didn’t want him, didn't need him, why should he stay? He’d be better off starving to death over and over in front of that bloody door.

 

His foot bit into a fuzzier patch of carpet than the rest, but he ignored it. It didn’t matter. He didn’t matt-

  
Sans’ leg caught on the rim of MTT’s fountain, long since shut off, leaving only a stagnant pool of water behind. He fell in, his skull meeting the golden bottom with a crack. Sans passed out, his sliver of determination clinging to a meager one millionth of an HP. Blue and red mixed with murky green and grey, spreading with the ripples that surrounded his crumpled form.


	15. Chapter 15

Grillby sat and stared at the swinging door for what felt like years. The entire conversation ran through his head, over and over and over. Every stupid remark that he  _ knew _ he shouldn’t have said felt like a lead weight upon his back. It felt like the entire universe was dragging him down into the very abyss Sans had pulled him from.

 

Had he really just done that? Where had his mind been? Where had his compassion? He knew Sans, he’d known Sans for years. None of that was right. 

 

Well, perhaps some of it was true, but the way he said it...the way he acted...if there were any possible way to screw that up more than he had, he couldn’t see it. He had belittled Sans’ abilities, which he knew would only reinforce Sans own bad opinion of himself. He had shouted at Sans; yes, Papyrus had done that all the time, but not in anger. He had brought up Papyrus, and he was well aware that Sans had done little to no processing of his grief. 

 

He had brought up the bond, the one thing he had been terrified to mention to Sans for decades for this very reason. He had suspected Sans didn’t know what he was doing, and as much as that link had stunted Papyrus, it had crippled Sans’ ability to see clearly when it came to helping his brother. He had criticized it, criticized Sans, and all that had done was make him defensive - and to make matters worse, he had bulldozed over any explanation Sans had tried to give. If he had ever wanted to convince Sans that what had gone on between him and his brother was wrong, that was not the way. Reasonable discussion on a calm, point by point basis, yes. Shouting and vitriol, no.

 

He had hardly let Sans get in a word edgewise. He knew Sans was quiet, knew he never tried to talk over people if he could help it. He was incapable of talking over people. He  _ always _ listened to people when they were talking, gathering information to use for puns or for those wordless deeds of kindness everyone knew he was behind but were too prideful to thank him for. 

 

Sans was the grease that made Snowdin spin; everyone knew it, but no one would mention that to Sans. He was an outsider, and by the time he had ceased to be one, it had become tradition, just like the sign over the Librarby and the Giftmas tree. If Sans had disappeared, everything would have crumbled around the space he had occupied. How could the skeleton have ever thought that no one needed him, that no one cared? Everyone had needed him, everyone had cared...oh.

 

Grillby winced. Sans knew they  _ had. _ Past tense. Snowdin was empty now, locked behind a wall of white. The skeleton hadn’t even had a chance to speak to everyone since the evacuation; for all he knew, they were dead or furious with him for...some reason. Sans seemed to think this entire tragedy was his fault, and no one but Grillby had been reassuring him otherwise...well, no one he knew. And then…

 

And then Sans had tried to help him, and Grillby had told him he had done something wrong. Not just told, but  _ screamed _ . No wonder Sans had looked so hollow, so betrayed. He had just contradicted everything he’d been trying to get Sans to believe these past few days. He’d shattered the fragile trust they’d only just formed. He was an idiot.

 

Grillby felt exhausted. How could he fix this? Sans was never going to let him get close enough to talk. Even if he did, Sans wouldn’t listen. He’d pushed too far, too hard, all because he was...he was…

 

Grillby took an actual look at his own SOUL and body for the first time since he had woken up. His flames were sparse and growing sparser, even with the blue magic still clinging to him. The heat they were throwing off wasn’t right. It was a shallow heat, a shallow flame, with no underlying support and far too much smoke. 

 

Grillby hated smoke, had hated smoking since he was a child, back when smoke meant something burning that the humans who lived nearby would probably get angry about losing. He had worked and worked until the only time he ever gave off smoke was when he was in physical pain or so far gone in terms of his reserves that he just didn’t have the energy to spare.

 

One look at the dim, almost matte texture of his own SOUL told Grillby just how bad it had been. He...hadn’t realised how fast he’d been burning up his magic. Healing Sans, dealing with the emotion roulette of his deaths and reappearances, everything with their bond, the fight with Gaster, more walking than he had put himself through since he had moved to Snowdin; all these things took a toll, and together with how little he had eaten and slept...well, it was no wonder that he was bad off.

 

Still, this? Grillby could not honestly remember the last time his reserves had been so low that his SOUL had started  _ absorbing _ light rather than  _ shedding _ it. Not even when he had been caught in an avalanche and trapped overnight twenty years or so ago. He looked...he looked like one of his shield brothers the day they’d stepped out of Urendon. Battered, bleeding, and drained to within a hair’s breadth of Falling Down. He looked...dead.

 

Stars and planets far above, no wonder Sans had acted like he did. If Sans had...if Sans was...if he...stars.

 

Grillby felt like, had he been his lover, his bones would be rattling loud enough to be heard across the Barrier. Hell, they could probably have heard him across that big blue sea he’d been too scared to look at, all those years ago. He was shaken.

 

Why didn’t he let Sans speak? Why didn’t he take the time to actually  _ look _ at his body before? If he’d just done that...if he’d only noticed sooner…

 

He’d seen the last time Sans had tried to heal someone. Even the other dogs had understood why Sans hadn’t stopped the infection in Doggo’s eyes when they’d seen how badly the skeleton had cracked his own bones, how sick he’d made himself, how drained he’d been after trying. Sans wasn’t a healer, shouldn’t ever even try to be one. He wasn’t the only monster like that; every monster had a kind of magic that absolutely refused to work with them. Grillby was absolutely useless when it came to proper bullets. He could throw fire with the best of them, he could heal, he could manage both blue attacks and orange, although not nearly as well as Papyrus and Sans. 

 

He understood why Sans wouldn’t have been able to heal him; stars, Sans might have even  _ tried _ . He didn’t seem to get that there were limits to how much damage he could take when someone else needed him, and if it was...if it was someone he cared about as deeply as he did Grillby? 

 

How badly was he hurt right now? Grillby had seen Sans’ fall, had heard the crack. He’d seen the edges of Sans’ socket-wound breaking open again. And if Sans had tried to  _ heal _ him...his skeleton needed him.

 

It didn’t matter if he hated him, if he wanted to break the bond and never talk to Grillby for the rest of his life. Grillby...well, he wouldn’t enjoy it, but if that was what Sans wanted...stars, if that was what Sans wanted, he could have it. Just so long as he knew Sans was okay.

 

Just so long as he knew Sans was okay.

 

* * *

 

Orange firelight danced on the hallway walls like hanging silks fluttering in the breeze, bright and curving and never still. It did not move quickly. Bones didn’t leave much of a trace, even with all the dust. 

 

The outermost aura of Grillby’s light glinted off the golden base of the decrepit statue, sending reflections of light sparkling around the room. The scene looked more like a photograph from one of the older cameras to fall down here, painted as it was in shades of gold, brown, and grey. Shadows pointed like blackened knives at the cracked curves of white peeking out of the dying ripples in the fountain bowl.

 

Grillby stumbled forward, his flames popping in distress, and his foot sizzles on the damp patch of moss. He winces, his whole body shuddering from the pain, and gingerly pulls his foot back. He searches the carpet for a dry patch, and only then does he set it back down. He looks back at the fountain and his whole body slumps.

 

There was no way he would be able to get Sans out of there like this. Even if he wasn’t as drained as he was, that much water would be  _ hell _ . Right now, it would be a death warrant, and no plan he could come up with would change that. Grillby felt defeated, hopeless, useless-

 

Was this how Sans felt? It had to be. This endless drag of crushing darkness - there was no way Grillby could live under this, not for more than a few days...and Sans had felt like this for how long? Weeks? Months? Years? 

 

But it never stopped him, did it? Not  _ really _ stopped him. Yes, there had been times when Sans had just...given up the effort. Weeks, years even, where all the skeleton had done was coast by, clinging to his brother’s energy and the familiar routine of life in Snowdin. No midnight chats, no mysterious gifts, no inventive puns. He’d just...gone through the motions. 

 

But it always ended. Sometime, someday, Sans just...woke up. Problems started fixing themselves again. Waves of pranks hit the town. That ever-present smile felt a little bit less hollow. Slowly but surely Sans worked up speed, and soon he was chugging along as if nothing had ever got him down.

 

If Sans could do that...if Sans could work up the energy to find that mouldy bag of sweet potato fries, despite his blindness, despite the howling loneliness of this building, despite the grit of dust on the floor and the unfamiliar rooms...if Sans could do that, what excuse did Grillby have? Even if he couldn’t reach into that fountain himself, there had to be a way. Sans hadn’t dusted yet, and Grillby knew he couldn’t drown. All he had to do was find it.

 

He took another look at the room, searching for a net, or even just a pole of some kind. The carpet around the fountain’s edge was too wet for him to get close enough to Sans for him to use one of the blankets, but if he could extend his reach just a little bit farther...nothing. The mop down by the bedrooms had splintered beyond use, the chairs he could see in the fancier dining room were broken, cracked, or crumbling from wood rot, and the tables weren’t much better. There was nothing there solid enough to support Sans’ weight, let alone his own. 

 

Grillby felt his flames growing more and more erratic, and tried to calm himself. Sans was fine, he was still there, he was…

 

Grillby’s panic soared the moment he looked at Sans’ stats. He leapt forward and felt the spike of water damage shoot up his leg, forcing him back again. No, no, no, how could he let this happen, he should have...he had to...he...what could he do? He needed to do something, and quickly...but what could he do?

 

If the physical world didn’t have his answer, maybe magic did. Grillby let his magic burn, letting the ‘smoke’ show him the outlines of every spell, node, and connection in the area. There was his own flames, there the lintel spells, there the bond stretching between them, gaps in the chain larger than before, the links frail. One hard tug and the entire thing would collapse. He felt the guilt roiling in his SOUL.

 

Grillby followed the link down to Sans’ SOUL. It looked far worse than he had imagined, almost grainy. Like a batter mixed without enough liquid, only more evenly spread. Perhaps it was more like rice half-cooked, some grains still dry, others properly inflated. No matter what he called it, it was not a good sight. Whatever it was that was holding Sans’ together was running out.

 

Grillby noticed something odd. The way magic normally worked, Sans’ SOUL should be far more...stagnant. Monster SOULs were more like wells than rivers, waiting for an outside force to cause them to change rather than reveling in it, but Sans...Sans’ was swirling. It was something he had noticed in the skeleton’s magic before, a sense of circulation like smoke in a closed room, barely perceptible but still there. 

 

Now, though, now it was a torrent, crashing rapids, a rolling boil despite the damage...or perhaps because of it? Grillby remembered Alphys talking about Determination when she was explaining the Amalgamates as if it were a physical force. It was an emotion, but if there were some kind of power to it, some kind of magic all its own...when else did one feel Determination but when adversity and struggle came knocking at one’s door? 

 

If this was Determination, where was it coming from? Where was it drawing its energy from? More importantly given her description of those poor monsters, where was it going to? Sans didn’t seem like he was melting yet.

 

Grillby peered closer at the swirling SOUL, and noticed a pattern. The swirl was random, and yet directed, flowing chaotically from Grillby’s left to his right. It looked...almost like a draining motion. It  _ was  _ a draining motion. Something was siphoning off the power that Sans was producing just fast enough to keep it from killing him...but what? Grillby followed the funnel of the drain, thin as it was, down and over and out into-

 

Into a mass of magic more chaotic, more powerful, more raw and hungry and damaging than any he had ever seen before. If uncontrolled magic could ever have an emotion, this did. Grillby’s flames sputtered as he stared into magic that, all at once, looked furious, worried, lonely, and terrified.

 

* * *

 

Beyond the walls of the MTT Resort, the mess of raw, natural magic that was commonly known as the CORE could feel the damage done to the child it had once known so well, almost cared for. The child it had nurtured and guarded and lost, suddenly and agonizingly, decades ago. It had almost forgotten him, but now it had been reminded. Now it wanted him back. Now it wanted to burn away the things that had kept him from it for so long. Now it wanted him home, and it was terrified that, despite its calls, the monster was injured and dying, dying in a way it knew how to fix, and dying just beyond the edge of its reach.

  
  



	16. Chapter 16

Grillby...didn’t know how to react. This mass of magic - was this the CORE? Was this torrent of contradictions and power unrestrained by any SOUL really the device that powered the entire Underground? This...it was feeling something, emotions backed up by more raw magic than should ever exist in one place. Had the Royal Scien- Gaster really designed something like this?

 

[Yes.]

 

Was this how it was supposed to look? Like a meltdown waiting to happen, like a leyline actively revolting?

 

[No.]

 

This...this was terrifying! How could…

 

Wait...

 

Where had that thought come from? Grillby hadn’t thought that, he didn’t know that. That was why he was asking. Who had answered him? Who was speaking?

 

[I am.]

 

...What?

 

[I am speaking. Me.]

 

Grillby stumbled to the floor, flames wild and ill-formed. Was he going crazy? Was all of that death, all the dust and the destruction and the fear and the relief and the love and the change and everything that had happened in the last few months finally pushing him over the edge? He really didn’t want that to be happening, he needed to be sane. Sans needed him to be-

 

[Sans. You know Sans?]

 

He paused, then nodded.

 

[I do not remember you. Are you the reason he hasn’t been here?]

 

Grillby frowned, confused. What did the voice mean...how did the voice even know Sans?

 

[Sans was always here until he wasn’t. Sans is important. He speaks and listens when I listen and speak. He was here and I needed him here and he needed me. Then he left and I forgot. Now he is almost here and I remember. I should not have forgotten. Are you the reason Sans was not here?]

 

Grillby did not know how to reply. He did not think he had kept Sans away from anyone. Sans had been living in Snowdin for decades, but-

 

[Snowdin is the place that gives the ice. Why has the ice stopped? Was Sans the one who sent the ice? If so, would Sans need to leave for the ice to resume? I do not like not having ice, but I like Sans being here more.]

 

Grillby remembered Ice Wolf, and hoped the man and his sister were not having too hard of a time in the heat of Alphys’ lab. He had sometimes wondered why Ice Wolf was employed to throw ice into the river. He had heard once that it was supposed to cool the CORE-

 

[Yes. Me. That is me. So this Ice Wolf sent the ice? You should tell him to make - no. Later. Ice can wait. Sans.]

 

Grillby felt floored. He seemed to be talking to the CORE. The actual CORE. The swirling, tumultuous mass of magic that powered the Underground. The CORE. Which seemed very focused on Sans. That was worrying him. How could something like the CORE care about a monster it had never even met? Why would it?

 

[I have met Sans. Sans used to play with me. I would sing and he would hum or I would hum and he would sing. Sans always played with me. No one else wanted to play with him. He wanted  _ HIM _ to play with him sometimes, though. Sans wanted that a lot. He didn’t seem to be able to get  _ HIS _ attention, so I helped. When he wanted attention his SOUL would produce the red magic, so I gave him more of the red magic.  _ HE _ payed more attention, although it did not look like playing. ]

 

Red magic...he knew no one who possessed red magic. Blue, yes, and green and purple, too. Red, though, was almost unheard of. Where had he heard of- 

 

Alphys. The Amalgamates. Determination. 

 

Had the CORE fed Sans raw Determination? 

 

[If that is what the red magic is called, then yes.]

 

Stars. Just...Stars. Did it not understand how dangerous that was? Grillby had seen the Amalgamates. Alphys had told them all that the melting effects were due to the substance. She had found notes, but hadn’t realised just how…

 

Melting. Stars. Grillby remembered the first time he had seen Sans up close, all those years ago. The way his jaw was melted and deformed had looked so painful. Was that...was that…

 

[Sans once was louder. Then he was not. He thought it was the games  _ HE _ wanted him to play with his jaw. He did not like those games, he said they hurt. I made  _ HIM _ stop those games, and then it did not hurt, but then Sans was quiet and  _ HE _ did not play again. Still, Sans did not want to play then, so then it was not a problem.]

 

Grillby felt sick. The CORE had done that? 

 

[Yes. Sans wanted something and so I helped.]

 

“BUT IT HURT!” Grillby’s voice echoed around the empty lobby.

 

[I did not cause the hurt.  _ HE _ caused the hurt.  _ HE _ caused many hurts.  _ HE _ would forget and then Sans would be hurt and I would fix it. Then the hurt was different and Sans was hungry.  _ HE _ made Sans hungry, I fixed it. I gave him raw energy so he would not be hungry.  _ HE _ only yelled.]

 

Grillby supposed, in a twisted sort of way, that that was true. In every meaningful one, the CORE had caused…

 

Had the CORE just said what he thought it had said? Had it really fed raw magic through Sans? 

 

[Yes. Sans was hungry, and his hunger felt like mine. He did not know where to get the things which fixed his hunger. Therefore I fixed it like I would fix mine. It worked, although  _ HE _ would yell whenever I needed to fix Sans’ hunger. Sans did not like the yelling, so I made  _ HIM  _ not yell. Then Sans talked only to me. Sometimes he’d get hurt when we played, but I always fixed it. Except when he did the weird thing.] 

 

Well, that explained the migraines, at least. Too much raw magic shorted out a monster’s physical body. The older the monster, the more they could handle, but children were not stable enough to handle it. The more they used it, the more damage it did. 

 

That reaction was also probably the origin of Sans’ worries about people other than Papyrus yelling at him. Papyrus was always the exception, and perhaps Undyne. Eventually. After Sans first met her, he had apparently locked himself in his room for three days. The entire town had wondered about it, but of course no one had told Undyne. Regular conversation between Snowdin and the Royal Guard had not been a thing until after Papyrus had become her friend.

 

...What was that about a weird thing?

 

[The thing where Sans is powdery and then he isn’t. That weird thing. Sans said it hurt but I couldn’t fix it.  _ HE  _ could. He fixed it but then he didn’t, he made it worse. Sans didn’t like that so I didn’t like that. I made  _ HIM _ think about something else, but it didn’t work very well.  _ HE _ started getting weirder. Then he brought the loud one, Sans’ brother. Sans likes the loud one. ]

 

Papyrus. The loud one was Papyrus?

 

[Yes.]

 

Then Sans...Sans had been doing that that long ago? Before his brother was even born, or maybe not...the way the CORE spoke about time confused him. Had the...the weird thing stopped after Papyrus arrived?

 

[Yes. Then Sans worried about his brother like I worry about Sans. Sans didn’t want his brother to be hungry or hurt or do the weird thing so I made it so he wouldn’t.]

 

The CORE made it so...how had it done that when it had not been able to help Sans?

 

[I helped Sans, but his brother wasn’t Sans. I could not give him magic or energy like I could give them to Sans. I told Sans but he didn’t know why. So I could not fix things that way, but I could fix things the other.]

 

The other?

 

[The bars wouldn’t go to zero if they had farther to fall, fell slower, filled faster. So I made  _ HIM _ fix that. It worked.  _ HE _ tried to fix Sans the same way first but it didn’t work. It did the opposite and it hurt. The weird thing happened again. And again. And again. But then it didn’t but Sans didn’t fix. ]

 

Stats. The CORE was talking about stats. Grillby had always wondered how the two brothers could have stats so incredibly different. It should not have even been possible to have stats as low as Sans.

 

[It is not good. I could not fix it, and  _ HE _ could not fix it, and the loud one worried. The loud one asked  _ HIM _ to fix it even though I already had and  _ HE _ already tried.  _ HE _ yelled. Sans did not like that _ HE _ yelled at Sans’ brother. He wished  _ HE _ would go away and stop hurting and yelling. I made  _ HIM _ come to me and I hid  _ HIM _ so Sans wouldn’t have to see him. Then Sans left.]

 

Grillby was starting to feel the beginnings of a headache forming. The way the CORE spoke was confusing and LOUD. Every word echoed in his head. Even more so the times the CORE referred to Gaster. It was simple language, simple grammar, but that didn’t necessarily help. 

 

Grillby got the feeling that last comment would be a lot more meaningful if he actually understood what it meant. As it was, all he had gotten out of it was that Papyrus had worried about Sans, Gaster had yelled at someone, the CORE had tried to help somehow, and Sans had left. Very insight-

 

Sans. Right. Small injured skeleton currently collapsed in fountain. Sans. He needed to help Sans.

 

[Yes. I can fix Sans but he is too far away. Bring him closer to me.]

 

Grillby pinched the bridge of his nose. That was very helpful. What did the CORE think he was doing earlier, panicking without any idea of what to do?

 

[Yes.]

 

Not helpful. Besides, he knew Sans needed help, he knew some of how to help himself. The problem wasn’t how to help, it was how to get the bag of bones out of the fountain. 

 

[Pick him up.  _ HE _ and the loud one did it often enough.]

 

Well, yes. Everyone did that, once or twice. Sans was just that short, and snowdrifts were a dangerous thing to the vertically challenged. But the CORE didn’t seem to understand what he meant when he said the problem was with Sans being in the  _ fountain _ . Did it even understand what a fountain was?

 

[Yes. A fountain is a decorative object involving moving water. Or not, if not. Why is this a problem?]

 

“BECAUSE IT IS WET!” His flames popped wildly. Sarcasm was going over this thing’s head, and Grillby was too pissed and frightened right now with his own inability to help and the CORE’s useless suggestions to care about politeness anymore.

 

[Why would that- oh. You are flame, flame does not like water. Sans told me that once. Then why do you not pick him up the other way?]

 

Grillby’s nose, had it been flesh, would probably be bruising by now.

 

“.....what other way?”

 

[The loud one often used blue magic. Sans did too. So did  _ HE _ . So did-]

 

Blue magic didn’t act like that, though. Not that he knew of. 

 

[Yes it does.]

 

Grillby didn’t believe it. He was old, he had fought in the war, and he knew his magic better than this...thing. 

 

[Say why you do not believe me. Then I will tell you why you are wrong.]

 

Fine then, he would. Blue magic came in two varieties, light and dark. Light blue magic was a damage effect, the kind that could only be avoided if you didn’t move. Useful for cooking, too. Dark blue magic was a speed effect, slowing you down. It made limbs and attacks move slower, but give more damage.

 

[That is not all wrong, but still wrong. Dark blue magic manipulates how much of down is down and where down is. Down can be up or left or right or forward or back or down or anything in between. The more blue magic, the more powerful the change.]

 

Grillby felt immensely frustrated. That  _ almost _ sounded logical, something he would be able to do, and yet he didn’t understand enough to actually help! If he had magical reserves stronger than the flicker he currently possessed, he might have been tempted to simply try different combinations until he got the spell to work. But he did not. He was not even certain he would have enough magic to lift Sans even if he’d known how.

 

[That is not a problem. I know how and have the power but am not close enough. You do not know how and can transfer the power and are close enough. If you bring Sans closer, afterward I will help. You just have to let me in.]

 

“.....No.”

 

[Yes.]

 

“NO.”

 

[Why not?]

 

Because...because...because…hundreds of reasons swirled in Grillby’s head, none of them solid enough or logical enough to convince this...thing.

 

Because it would be cheating, relying on something outside himself, not only for the power, but for the skill. It took years to build up that kind of knowledge, and that was how it should be.

 

Because it hurt his pride as a warrior and a monster that something without a SOUL knew magic better than he did. He had years, hundreds upon hundreds of years, of experience with magic of all sorts. This CORE had been...alive, if you could call it living...for less than a hundred. He could not admit that it knew something he did not about the very force that kept him alive.

 

Because it would make him just a tool, nothing more than an outlet, in the process to save Sans. He wanted to be more than that, he needed to be more than that. He knew he could not be, but the desire was there nonetheless.

 

Because it would be too close to what had hurt Sans, what Gaster had done, what the CORE had done, what Papyrus had done. Channeling magic was dangerous, and he had seen all to often lately just how much pain came when something went wrong. Sans was one of the most gifted users of magic he knew, and he had been damaged by this. How easy would it be for him to fall into the same fate?

 

Because he did not trust this thing. It had no SOUL, it had no mind, it had no...well, perhaps it did have emotions, of a sort. But it was not a monster. It was not a mage. It was not a human. It was not alive, not like he was, and it very clearly did not understand what being alive meant. It did not understand the limits he was subject to. It had hurt Sans, whom it seemed to care about. It might hurt him even easier.

 

Because he did not trust himself. He had scared and betrayed Sans. He had caused this to happen, even if he hadn’t meant to. He could see the damage he had caused to their bond. If he could hurt someone he cared about as much as he did Sans, who was to say he would not do so again? He barely understood what was going on. It would be so easy to mess this up. 

 

None of those reasons were strong enough to voice. None of those reasons were clear enough for this...thing to answer. It’s confusion radiated through him. Then it dissolved.

 

[You are afraid.]

 

“.....Yes.”

 

[So am I.]

 

What?

 

[I need him. You need him. He is hurt, and I cannot help him. You are strange. I have not met you before. You do not understand. You are not him, you are not me. I cannot do what I need to, I cannot do what I want. But he is hurt and he needs me, and you. I do not like to see him hurt. There are so many ways to hurt him, too many. I never seem to know them all, and I do not want to see him hurt. But I have to help him.]

 

Grillby felt an odd sort of kinship for the thing. The feelings might not be as deep, but they were the same as his own. He...could he live with this? Letting this thing in, to save Sans? 

 

That was it, really. Grillby knew it in his SOUL. He would do anything to save Sans. Anything.

 

[Then let me in.]

  
  


* * *

 

 

Alphys didn’t understand what was happening. Ever since she’d gotten back to the lab, the readings from the CORE had been all over the place. There was no possible way it could be producing readings like this. Spikes, oscillations, valleys...the pattern almost looked like the rhythm of a SOUL. It was impossible...wasn’t it?

 

She was staring at the Integrity chambers change log when it happened. The blinking cursor vanished, replaced by a rapid stream of coding she barely understood. Attempts to delete the text, to close the access port, to reset the system...everything that should have worked didn’t. She could only watch in confusion and horror as whatever this was added a power tap of a kind she was completely unfamiliar with. 

 

The code was...fuzzy. Variables and equations with absolutely useless names scrolled past. She had no idea what any of it meant. The only thing she could tell was that someone, something was draining the tank of the reserves. It was massive, it was impossible, it was happening, and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

 

Finally, after what felt like hours of scrolling code and crackling discharge from her fraying nerves, the connection terminated. She stared at the screen, dumbfounded. Was that...was that it?

 

She reached for the keyboard uncertainly, flinching back. Nothing. She tried typing. The letters bobbed merrily on the screen, a simple echo statement. She ran the code. Numbers filled the screen, output levels and energy reserves. She stared in shock.

 

Other than the Integrity tanks, the only changes that had been made were a minor dip in the flow-rate on the Kindness array. Neither of the regions were damaged enough to warrant a shutdown, although the Integrity was painfully close to an all time low. It was as if whatever fiend had messed with her...Gaster’s...machinery had known exactly how much it could take. 

 

That scared her almost as much as the invasion in the first place. That, and the slowly calming rhythm of what she swore was a heartbeat in the CORE’s central mass.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! I got hit with a massive cold and a large amount of work, and stupidly took on a 6 hour volunteer gig that nearly turned my cold into pneumonia. Back to normal now, so hopefully that 2-week thing will actually be a thing.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which friends speak after too long an absence.

The first thing Sans noticed was the veins. White, gold, red, and blue, hundreds of colors flowing in every possible direction at every conceivable speed. Sometimes they merged, eddies of one color spiraling into the other. Sometimes they pooled, vanishing into the inky black without a trace. A few places almost throbbed as several floodgates opened and closed rhythmically. It was sparkling, dancing, titillating. It felt like home.

 

The second thing he noticed was static. It spread throughout Sans’ body, congealing in his ankles, skull, spine, and wrists. It was unfortunately familiar, the kind of tingle that meant he was in too much pain for his body to parse it all. He’d be surprised if he wasn’t running a fever. That usually happened when he got like this.

 

His scapula told him he was wearing pjs again. Some kind of cottony sheet was twisted up around his metatarsals. He could smell lotion, that extra chalky stuff everyone insisted he rub on his bones whenever they got cracked. A blanket pinned him, or maybe a stack of the things. It certainly felt like more than one to Sans. 

 

Musty pillows pressed against his skull and the cervical curve of his spine. Probably a pillow nest then. Joy. Welp, he wouldn’t be moving anytime soon. Not that he had the energy to try. It felt as though the entire mountain had collapsed on his head. Heh. Wouldn’t put it past it, not with everything else that was going on…

 

His mind caught up with the present at the same time his ears made out the faintest whispers of Grillby’s voice. Talking on the phone with someone maybe? Lots of pauses, even for Grillbz. Whoever it was was talking the flame’s ear off, then. He sounded kinda strained, too, under the politeness. Probably not someone he knew well.

 

[It is the yellow science-engineer. She does not write terrible code.]

 

Huh. He didn’t know anyone like that. Not many monsters were programmers, not with how new the medium was to them. Sans didn’t think he was too bad...well,  _ was.  _ He’d seen that Annoying Dog carrying around a few scraps that desperately needed some revision. Punk had even tried his paws at it once, with disastrous results. That was it, as far as he knew.

 

[The loud pink one wrote a program once. It made sparkles sparklier.]

 

That did sound like something the overgrown calculator would do. That, and repaint everything either pink or in the shape of his face. Or audio, although that was definitely over that idiot’s head. Even dead, he still managed to tick Sans off.

 

[Why is the loud pink one annoying? Is it the loud? Or the pink?]

 

“it’s the...huh?”

 

[Sans?]

 

“i, um, didn’t realize i was talking aloud, buddy. sorry if i bothered you.”

 

[You did not bother me, Sans. You do not bother me. I like you.]

 

Sans’ faintly blue skull rustled the pillow as he searched the room for any sign of another monster’s magic. Nothing.

 

“heh, sorry bud. i, ah, can’t see you. d’ya mind telling me who you are?”

 

[You cannot see me.]

 

Sans coughed, “well, no. bashing your own skull in will do that to you. still kinda want to know who you are.”

 

[That is not good, Sans. Why did you do that?]

 

Sans felt himself getting annoyed, “i didn’t  _ do _ that, it just-”

 

[Did  _ HE _ do that to you?]

 

“thank you for letting me finish, and no, papyrus didn’t...do...that…core?”

 

The flowing magic sped into a rush.

 

[Sans! You remember me! You didn’t but now you do. I didn’t but now I do, too. I missed you. Why did you go away?]

 

He pushed himself upright, spreading his thin magic into the pipework of his first home, “stars, core, is that you? i thought you...where have you been? i just stopped hearing you one day and...i thought you forgot about me. everyone forge- no, that’s not right.”

 

[Yes, I am me. I have been here. I did not mean to forget about you, but I did. Now I have remembered and I missed you. You are bigger now. When did you grow?]

 

“wait, really? you’re  _ rattling my bones _ , right? i’ve been wearing the same clothes forever, i can’t have grown.”

 

[No, I am not. Why would I do that? And you do not, you had a blue jacket and a white shirt and black shorts and white socks and yellow boots. This is not yellow boots.]

 

“oh, yeah. i forgot about those boots. those were nice. i wore ‘em so much, the soles fell apart. undyne made me buy new shoes, so i got some pink slippers. really soft, and no laces.”

 

[Laces are hard to tie. You told me that.]

 

“heh, yup. never did get the  _ hang  _ of it, always  _ dangling _ behind. slippers and boots are the way to go.”

 

[Where are the slippers?]

 

“they’re right...oh, yeah. they’re, um, probably in snowdin somewhere.”

 

“.....I believe your slippers are…..under my bed…..at the moment.”

 

Sans stiffened. His skull, of its own accord, rotated to face Grillby’s voice. The sputtering blue-green glow of their bond sagged before him, barely holding together. He gulped.

 

“g-grillby?”

 

[Sans, what is wrong? Is the flame mean to you? Do you not like him? I needed him to help me to help you. Was I wrong?]

 

“quiet,” Sans saw the bond quiver, and blurted, “no, not you, him. he’s fine. grillby’s fine. i like grillby, even if he doesn’t need me.”

 

The statement hung in the silence. It’s presence was so palpable, he could almost  _ see _ it. Heh. No he couldn’t. Grillby probably could. 

 

“.....Sans, I-”

 

“nah, it’s good, grills. i get it. it’s not like i-”

 

His nest of blankets went from mildly cold to desperately warm in 0.3 seconds. A heavy weight dipped the bed beside him. A slightly lighter one thunked against Sans’ chest. The air filled with rapid heaving.

 

Sans dug his phalanges into the bedding. If he’d still been capable, he knew his eyelights would have blown wide. What was Grillby doing? He clearly didn’t need Sans around, and having him close like this was making it so much more difficult to get this leavetaking over with.

 

[You do not get to leave. You just got back, so you have to stay. I want you to stay.]

 

Among all the other things Sans had forgotten about his friend, the weird half-logical sentences were not something he missed. 

 

“.....I’m sorry.”

 

Sans shifted in the pillows to face the flaming lump on his chest.

 

“what?”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Sans spoke to the ceiling...or at least, where he assumed the ceiling to be.

 

“why? you’ve done nothing to deserve-”

 

“I yelled at you…..I shouldn’t have done that. I was tired and I…..no, that’s wrong. I should have…..listened to you, Sans. I should have asked. I assumed…..I didn’t realise how much HP…..I had lost.” 

[He was at 8/50 when you ran. Was it worse?  _ HE _ said less than half was not good. That was not good. Did you do that?]

 

A part of Sans wondered just how much of a help he had really been. He’d always been shit at healing, no matter what he tried. Grillby couldn’t have been that much worse off...but he’d felt like he’d been on the edge of dying. Sans had nearly drained himself just to get Grillby to wake up...how much had the flame really gone down?

 

Grillby gulped, the clenching of his throat shifting the blanket between them. His fingers twisted in the fabric on either side of Sans’ humeri.

 

“You…...you saved me, Sans, and I…..you were hurt. You were so hurt…..I was scared, Sans. I didn’t mean to…..hurt you like that. It’s my fault. I made you run…..I need you so much and still I drove you away. I should have, I should- I love you, I should have listened. I should have waited. I should have-”

 

“what was that?”

 

The weight on his chest lifted. Sans could feel the intensity of Grillby’s gaze.

 

[He said ‘I love you.]

 

Even with that unassailable assurance, Sans couldn’t believe it had really been said. He didn’t...but he wanted to.

 

“I…..I love you? I understand if you-oof!”

 

One minute Grillby was pulling away above him, the next the two of them, flame and skeleton, were wrapped together in a tangle of limbs, blankets, and pillows. Sans’ skull was nuzzling all over the place. No inch of skin was safe from the skeleton’s kiss. Magic twinkled wherever he went, gold and blue and green and white. The bond between them shone brighter than any crystal embedded in stone. 

 

Grillby held him up, his body relaxing from the shock of the sudden hug. Within seconds his own SOUL was following Sans’, nestling in and around and through. The bond heated, compassion, love, and need building stronger and stronger their link. Blue and green wove in, twining in the center and dancing to the ends where they burst, contained but bright, in joy.

 

Sans sagged against Grillby’s chest, bone by bone, leaning into the warmth that he never wanted to leave again. Grillby hummed and he hummed back. The tune broke off in a chuckle and a quiet head-butt just above his SOUL, brilliant white in the dark of his eyes.

 

“love you too, grillbz. love you too.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay, and the short chapter! Good news is I am now on break, so more frequent updates are probably gonna happen. Also, anything else in this chapter would spoil the good feeling, so enjoy.


	18. Chapter 18

“okay, so run that by me again.”

 

Grillby’s head twitched to face Sans, but the skeleton was looking somewhere above and to his right. He let the tension drain out of his form as he resumed mopping up the corridor just beyond Sans’ room. Sans’  _ childhood _ room. He’d never thought he’d see it. He’d never have dreamed it would look like this.

 

It was a nice room, at the base of it, if a bit small, even for Sans. There were stars on the ceiling, which he’d expected. There was a child size trombone waiting to be played. There were shelves of books, most of them having to do with jokes, space, or engineering. All of this was about what he would have expected.

 

What he had not expected was the bed. It had had bars on the side when he first came in. Yes, most of the children he knew had gone through a similar phase, bars or slats being the only sensible way to keep them from rolling out of bed. The fact that these bars had extended above the bed with only one door in, and a locked door at that...he hadn’t needed to work up much effort to melt them clean through. Especially after seeing the bone chips still embedded in the frame. And the singes. Sans hadn't wanted to be in that cage.

 

Still, the cage, while horrible, was not the weirdest thing about the bed. That honor went to its contents. Two mattresses were stacked above a solid frame. A cushioning pad was above that. There were blue striped sheets of soft cotton blend - not only soft but clean. And pillows. Lots of pillows. Soft pillows. Pillows for every possible need. The fluffy blanket had stars on it, and the comforter had cute little bones and skulls patterning the weave.

 

The dichotomy of the bed itself being covered in a cage was giving him problems. On the one hand, someone had clearly doted on the small skeleton it had been bought for. He didn’t think he’d ever seen a nicer bed. On the other hand, the cage. With scratch marks in it. And then someone had made the bed  _ inside _ the cage. He couldn’t comprehend it. 

 

The desk wasn’t helping things. It was clean, which was a problem in itself, knowing Sans. There were pens and pencils and a sharpener too. The little lamp was in the shape of a rocket ship. There were several notebooks stacked on the shelf, and a cute little calculator with the equals sign nearly worn through. 

 

Then there were the scratches. The surface was covered in dents, scratches, and several different kinds of stains. Only one of them could pass for coffee. The only notebook he’d looked through had been filled with Gaster’s handwriting, not Sans’. He’d read two pages before he’d decided to call it quits. This was not the kind of imagery he wanted to see. And the cover had the number nineteen. Not something he wanted to think about.

 

So, on top of the bed, there was the desk. It was a large desk set up for a growing child, although that in itself made him wonder more about Sans. It had bright colors on the stationary and a soft seat. The surface, on the other had, showed signs of...less than childish activities. He wasn’t sure why the notebooks were in here, instead of in the office he had absolutely refused to clean. Maybe for frequent reference. Maybe they had yet to be finished.

 

His flames seared through the plastic mop he’d been wielding. He rubbed his fingers and breathed. That was fine. This was all fine. It wasn’t as if he’d been in shock or anything, with a magical CORE speaking to him and a battered lover cradled in his arms. The room had just been icing on the cake. Burnt icing. With sprinkles.

 

Okay, he was a little bit angry. He hadn’t expected this. He didn’t know what he had expected to see out of a child’s room furnished by Gaster. Maybe lasers. And a chair with three legs and lumbar support. Not this.

 

Yes, the room was getting to him. The only reason Sans was in there at all was that Grillby refused to set foot in Gaster’s room and Papyrus’ bed had collapsed under the small skeleton’s weight. Grillby himself had taken up station on a medical cot from three rooms back. It didn’t look used, and somehow the idea of whatever might have been done to Sans on it was easier to stomach than opening up Gaster’s door.

 

[That bed was only used by the loud one. Once. And  _ HE _ cleaned it afterwards.]

 

Grillby sighed and leaned on the melted handle. He hadn’t asked that.

 

[But you wanted to know.]

 

No, he had not. Not exactly.

 

[You wanted to know Sans had not been hurt on it.]

 

He had not needed to know, though. It was not something he would die without learning, and it was not something he had asked. The fact that Papyrus, with the once-nice bed on the colorful carpet, had spent a night on it made him more uncomfortable than not knowing.

 

[But knowledge is a good thing.]

 

So is politeness.

 

[How was providing knowledge not polite?]

 

Grillby rubbed his nose. This felt like a conversation he had once had with Greater Dog. And Papyrus.

 

“.....Just because…...you are being helpful…...doesn’t mean…...your help is needed.”

 

[What?]

 

The flame set the mop against the wall. He leaned beside it, adjusting his arms until he felt comfortable. If the CORE reacted in any way like the teenage Papyrus had, he would probably be here for some time.

 

“Suppose you have a monster. This monster…..likes to cook things. Things that have flour. One day you hear them mention…..they have run out of flour. You go and get more…...without asking. When you return…...they have already gotten another shipment…..and it is a different kind of flour than what you bought. Do you see how asking…..would have made a difference?”

 

[Why did I not know which flour he needs?]

 

Grillby sighed. He would, indeed, be here for a while.

 

* * *

 

Sans lined the fourteenth and fifteenth bones up at the perfect angle. He held the formation, lowering it millimeter by millimeter to form the top of the pyramid. It settled, and he let it hang there, waiting. Nothing changed. He breathed out and released. The pyramid was now complete.

 

“.....I take it you need something more interesting to do than sleep.”

 

He let his skull loll down from the ceiling to face Grillby. He’d noticed two days after he’d woken up here that the overbright glow of their bond was crystal clear, whether he was looking for it or not. It was nice to know where his flame - his flame? Did he really just think that? Rude...or was it cute? 

 

He’d heard Dogamy call Dogessa ‘his mate’, but that seemed different. And didn’t the Rock Family up the way used to call each other ‘my boulder’? And he’d always heard Pap- well, his brother called him ‘his brother’. So did he. Did that mean calling Grillby ‘his flame’ was okay?

 

“how would you feel if i called you ‘my flame’?”

 

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. Welp, now he had to go with it. Smile and pretend it wasn’t weird. Not that hard when smiling was all he could do.

 

“.....I do not think it works as well as ‘my skeleton’…..although it is a pun. Oh dear…..”

 

Sans grinned at the instant regret in Grillby’s voice. Heh. Grinned.

 

“‘my flame’ it is then. two purposes for the price of one. heh.”

 

Grillby was probably rolling his eyes now. Welp, now that that was taken care of, he had boredom to slay.

 

“not that staring at core’s flow isn’t fun and all, but got anything a short, blind skeleton can do to lend a hand? i might be the champion at sleep, but even i could use a bit of variety sometimes.”

 

The bond brightened as Grillby came close. The edge of the bed bent beneath him, rolling Sans neatly into the flame’s lap. He let himself lie there, staring up at where he assumed Grillby’s head to be.

 

“At the moment…..there is nothing to do. For me…..or for you. Alphys said some monsters will be coming through…..later this evening, but until then….it is just you and me.”

 

[And me.]

 

Grillby’s flames on Sans’ mandible jerked away, and Sans groaned. 

 

“core, i know you missed me, but sometimes, and now would be one of them, it’s really weird to think of you being here.”

 

[Why?]

 

Grillby made to lift him off his lap, but Sans dug in. One thing he remembered about his friend was that if you let the CORE bother you, it’d never learn how annoying it was being. It was usually better to get a new rule into its head once rather than try to let it know gently. The CORE had no idea how to deal with subtlety.

 

“because these are weird mushy monster things that are embarrassing to have people see.”

 

Grillby’s snort vibrated through him with an effect he rather liked. Sans reminded himself to tell Grillbz.

 

[But I am not people.]

 

“but having you watching is still embarrassing. how about this - we let you know when weird mushy things are going down, and you leave us be.”

 

The CORE considered. Sans could feel it thinking, and for the first time ever, see it too. The pathways of magic and energy around him sped up, stopped, reversed, and diverted in a dazzling display. Stars, this was cool. It almost made up for the whole ‘can’t see’ thing. 

 

[If I accept, then you must tell me more about the weird mushy things.]

 

“.....Yes, Sans. You must tell it more about the…..weird mushy things.”

 

Sans pushed on Grillby’s chest, knocking him over.

 

“you are going to help me. you know way more about the weird mushy things than i do, mister ‘do you trust me?’.”

 

“.....Fine.”

 

The flame curled up around him, gripping his humerus almost possessively. 

 

[Okay. Then I’ll just leave you be. Let me know when you’re done with the weird mushy things.]

 

Sans didn’t really try all that hard not to preen.

 

“.....And it will really stop looking?”

 

Sans laughed and snuggled into the warm legs, “yes, grillby. the core’s got raw integrity rolling in it, lying isn’t something it can do. figuratively or literally.”

 

Hot breath tickled his cracked sockets and tingled in the magic of his skull. Sans shivered happily. 

 

“Then I have a few……’weird mushy things’.......I want to show you.”

 

Frontal bone met flame in a passionate kiss.

 

“yes, please.”

  
  


Eager, hungry approval filtered into Grillby from the skeleton in his lap. His magic was absolutely swarming over him, tugging and stroking at every speck of Grillby’s magical extremities. It was shallow, not anywhere near the bolder strokes Grillby had known before, but far more energetic, and split between far more filaments than he could manage. Inexperienced and ill-informed as to what intimacy could actually be, but ready and willing to learn. The feeling was heady and entirely unique.

 

His SOUL was swimming in the sensation, but his mind was racing for an entirely different reason. Grillby had been intimate with monsters before, on every level. He knew his own physicality. He knew what he liked and what he didn’t...well, most of it. As he’d learned with Sans’ migraine, his hands and arms were a lot more sensitive than he thought they’d be. He was comfortable and confident enough to take on whatever Sans might do to him. 

 

Sans, on the other hand, had a very limited experience. He’d never even realised he could be intimate before a few weeks ago...no, not even two weeks. And despite what the skeleton might think, they hadn’t gone beyond what, to more fleshy monsters, would be the equivalent of rubbing each other’s dicks. Intimate, yes. 

 

But the way Sans was reacting told Grillby he was ready for more. Not everything, but more. And Grillby would be the one introducing that to him.

 

How should he do it? He had a few options, but all of them had drawbacks. Mingling magic was relatively simple to explain, but Sans’ magic was...well, it wasn’t something he wanted to be meddling with lightly. Especially with how drained the two of them still were. Accidents were possible, even with a light mix. 

 

He could try SOUL touching. Harder to explain, and much less risk of permanent mixing. Grillby trusted Sans enough to give his SOUL to him. Sans, on the other hand, might not react well to either the suggestion that he summon his own SOUL to hand to Grillby, or have enough confidence in himself to touch Grillby’s. Almost certainly that was an option for a much, much later date.

 

Perhaps something more physical? Sans had lit up beautifully that first time. Grillby had a much more fluid body, and Sans was built of holes, joints, and cavities. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d filled another with his flames, but...he didn’t want to scare the skeleton, though. Having another monster’s body inside your own without explanation or warning was probably not a smart idea.

 

“hey, underground to grillbz, can you hear me g?”

 

Grillby blinked. Sans’ skull was inches from his own. His eye was burning bright blue, and light was leaking from between his teeth. He was almost vibrating with anticipation, but that burning eye gave Grillby an idea.

 

“.....Sans…..”

 

“yeah grillby?”

 

He tried to think how to explain this. Taking direct control of Sans’ magic wasn’t an option anymore after what Gaster did. 

 

“Can you…...have you ever made a cooking flame?”

 

Sans skull slowly tilted up and backwards. The skeleton looked contemplative.

 

“not a cooking flame...i’ve made warming flames and fighting flames.”

 

Grillby grinned. His uppermost plasma was probably leaving soot marks on the ceiling. He’d heard other flames talking about something like this, but never tried it. It mimicked the way a flame would get physical, but all of the control lay with the non-pyrotic monster.

 

“That is perfect…..think about a warming flame…...concentrated with how horny and excited you’re feeling.”

 

Sans’ left eye, burning blue, narrowed and swirled with yellow light. Flickers leaked out, first one, then three, then a dozen. They stretched out to meet him eagerly.

 

He pulled Sans up to meet him, twisting the skeleton until his feet found purchase on Grillby’s own knees. Sans’ flames brushed him for a short time that felt like a lifetime, sparkling and deeply arousing. The skeleton’s moan agreed with him.

 

“.....Are you steady?”

 

The way his skeleton was leaning into his right arm wasn’t encouraging. Sans was panting hard, his skull lolling back, visibly shaking. It looked a lot like someone in pain.

 

“sorry, grillbz, that was...wow.”

 

Ah. Okay. Less worrying, more endearing. Grillby felt the gold flush spreading from that small point of intersection, and he had known, at least a little, what that feeling would be. Sans was neck-deep in a sandpit he’d only run his fingers through previously. No wonder the monster was panting.

 

“That…..is fine. Whenever you are ready…..do that again. Gently.”

 

Sans panted a few moments more, then swallowed. His feet shifted through a few different positions before he settled. The skeleton regarded him, his skull raking over the heated areas of Grillby’s body. The flame looked down and realised something.

 

“Wait…..” 

 

He tugged his shirt and vest sloppily over his head, his right arm still supporting Sans’ weight. When his flames were freed, he tossed the clothes aside and returned his arm to Sans’ shoulder joint.

 

“.....Okay.”

 

Sans reached out quickly, pausing a few inches away from his lower left ribcage. The tendrils near his eye raced down, pooling in his hand and wrapping around each digit. Sans flexed them, looked up at Grillby, back at his phalanges, and closed the distance.

 

The moment Sans’ flame touched his was exquisite. Grillby could feel his emotions, his trepidation and love and desire. It twined against him, smoothing the broad curve of his own pseudo-ribs from center to their curve. Sans started a little ways up, felt his way down, then slowly made his way back up again. Each rib was stroked in an echo of Grillby’s first time with Sans. The flame could feel himself burning bright. His sight went smoky with the feeling.

 

“heh. pretty nice chest you got there, grillbz. i can see your bones  _ burning  _ for me.”

 

Grillby focused through to check, but Sans’ expression was nothing but raunchy, firey heat. His own glow reflected off the bone. Orange, gold, and blue made a heady mix.

 

While he was staring, Sans’ fingertips had made their way up to his nipple. The small digits bumped into it, and his flames popped loudly.

 

“eh?”

 

Sans’ phalanges wrapped round it and tugged. Every motion made Grillby’s head spin. As Sans explored this new territory, the flame’s thoughts were quickly losing coherency.

 

“huh. never felt something like this before. what is it?”

 

Grillby panted wildly, registering a question but nothing in it. What did Sans want from him?

 

“uh, grillbz?”

 

He dredged up some words from the depths of his mind, “.....More, please.”

 

Sans laughed, brightly and warmly, “okay, g. i’ll ask later, but don’t think you’re getting out of this easy.”

 

The tugging resumed. Sans’ conjured flames pressed deeper, licking and playing with his in the most intoxicating way. Bits and pieces merged with him, traveling down to pool in his SOUL and light it up. 

 

Grillby was gasping now, his chest filled with the feeling. Sans’ voice was in there too, laughing and mumbling and cooing at him, for him, with him. It was tight, the coil almost terrifying with how big it was getting. He felt, somehow, that he should already be coming. This was so much more filling than he remembered it to be. He wondered if his SOUL was leaking out of his skin.

 

A hand reached up to his neck. It was tugging on him, insistent. Grillby felt full to bursting, but bent down to hear whatever it was anyway. His SOUL pressed harder, and something else pressed against the front of his face. He opened his mouth and Sans rushed in, his cold, sweet tongue tangling with his. One last tug on his nipple and Grillby came.

 

* * *

 

Sans wasn’t quite sure what to do when Grillby started shining like that. There was so much gold it was like Grillby was there with him. Every detail was there, down to the was his eyelashes curled into smoky wisps. He wanted to just stop and admire it. He wanted to hold him, his flame, while he could still see him. He wanted this light to never end.

 

Part of him knew, though, that Grillby couldn’t stay like this. He was whimpering, gasping, panting. Sans could feel every flame clinging to him, tugging at him while he played idly with the odd hard thing above Grillby’s fifth rib. He wanted Grillby to feel good, but whatever he was doing wasn’t cutting it.

 

“grillbz, can you hear me?” 

 

The gold swirled towards him. Grillby babbled weirdly, half words mixed with sparks and fizzling.

 

“what do you need from me?”

 

More incomprehensible speech. It wasn’t unhappy, but Sans could really use some guidance here. He was a bit out of his depth. This was only, what, his fourth time? And already it felt so different. So much more...more. Vivid. clear.

 

He remembered the way Grillby had tangled their tongues when they’d first done this. Maybe that was what he needed? He reached up for that golden flame and tugged, trying to get Grillby down closer to his mouth. Already his tongue was forming, and the contrast between the warm fire in his socket and the cold wet in his mouth brought those shivers to a  _ boil _ . Heh.

 

Grillby finally bent down for him, and Sans pressed against him, not wanting to risk his wet tongue against the outside of his flame’s form. Grillby’s mouth hinged open, and Sans quickly slid in. The feeling of Grillby’s tongue against him sent him reeling, the fuzz he’d been working over bubbling up for attention again. His hand, trying to keep him on his feet, squeezed that tiny little hard bit.

 

Gold flooded over him, washing his SOUL with incoherent ecstasy that tipped his own tingling magic over the edge. He melted, blue and gold all around him. They soaked his bones and filled his mouth as he opened it, maybe to laugh, maybe to scream. He choked, pulling himself close to Grillby. His flame was burning so hot the bed sheets were probably crisping, despite Gaster’s high-tolerance coat of preserving magic.

 

Grillby slumped back onto his bed, pulling Sans with him. The rush of air made him squeak, the last of his pleasure melting into a general kind of happy with the spike of adrenaline. Arms wrapped around him, pinning his spine against a shivering shape. He struggled briefly, wanting to turn around so he could see if Grillby still had any of that gold flame. It was futile. He was stuck being cuddled until Grillby could be reasoned with.

 

He resigned himself to his fate, reaching up to the arms around him and tracing the bumps and dips that were utterly fascinating to him. He’d never considered that a flame could have the same kind of physical variations as his own bones did. He wondered what the scars looked like, and how old they were. Some of them probably came from his time in Snowdin. 

 

There was the time Papyrus had found a picture of a milkshake in a magazine and Grillby and Sans had spent the day in the kitchen trying to replicate it. Sans had supplied the chemistry to create frothy cold bits, and Grillby had burned himself trying to catch a piece of the dry ice. Sans had built the neon sign as a kind of apology. Looking back, it might have been more effort than an apology present was supposed to be, but Grillby had been so interested in the pictures in the magazine. Besides, other than getting the script right, it was just some fancy electrochemistry. 

  
As Sans drifted off to sleep, he realised it was one of the first times he’d thought of Papyrus and hadn’t broken down with the grief.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took me so long. A whole bunch of things hit me at once, and kinda knocked me for a loop. I'm doing better now, and should continue to do so. But I finally have the energy and mental space to write! Yay! 
> 
> So here, have a chapter. I have no idea when the next one will come, but hopefully soon. 
> 
> We're getting closer to the end of this story - there will be one-shots after, but the main narrative is almost up! Yay! We're finally going to earn that tag!

Sans woke from a pleasant nap. His mind still held wisps of a nonsensical dream involving apples and mathematics. It was simple, uncomplicated, and nice. In other words, the opposite of anything he’d felt in the past few months.

 

A spark of flame above his left temporal lobe made him reconsider that. Okay, maybe a few things lately had been nice. Simple and uncomplicated might be a stretch, but hey, who wanted those when life could be interesting? Sans, that’s who. He missed it.

 

Speaking of things he missed, now that the weird mushy things were over with (he never intended to let Grillbz forget that. It was hilarious) he should probably let CORE know it could watch again.

 

“hey, core,” he whispered, “you can look again.”

 

His friend’s magic rushed through him, not in him, but brushing the outside of every bone and joint. Aw, cute. CORE had been worried about him.

 

“i’m fine, core. quit tickling me.”

 

[Are you certain? You feel sleepy. It is not sleeptime, why do you want to sleep? The flame is sleeping. Is it because of the weird mushy things?]

 

Sans huffed as he disentangled himself from Grillby’s arms. Not an easy thing to do when you couldn’t see, but eh. 

 

“yeah, it’s fine. weird mushy stuff is fun, but exhausting.”

 

[Okay.]

 

Finally, Sans was free! But he’d ended up on the inside of the bed. Wall on one side, Grillby on other. Foot of bed? Eh, why not. He starting crawling. He’d forgotten how comfy these sheets were. Then again, at least Papyrus hadn’t made him make his bed every morning. That had been embarrassing and pointless. He was just going to ball them up again, why did he have to make them neat?

 

He reached the end of the bed. Careful flailing told him that nothing was there, which was nice, considering he needed to get out that way. Part of him had half expected something in the way, but he couldn’t remember what it might be. A bookcase maybe? A mirror? Something. Maybe he’d remember it later. 

 

Sans hopped off the bed. One foot landed on a discarded slipper, and he fell on his rump. His tailbone protested, and he agreed. Ow. That was like...a three. Not that bad, but he hadn’t- he didn’t-

 

Memories of the first time he’d ever used the system of numbering pain slammed into him. His stomach churned. Magic roared in his non existent ears. Phantom needles bit into his right coronoid fossa, and when he clutched at it, the sealed-over catheter ached like a...four. The original four, in fact. Okay. New topic, this one’s too dark, even for him.

 

“.....Sans?”

 

Thank you, Grillby, you are a lifesaver! Sans raised one hand high and waved it vigorously.

 

“down here. didn’t want to wake you and fell on my ass. guess i can’t win for losing, huh?”

 

Covers crinkled above and behind him. His scapulae reported an approaching source of heat. He told them he knew that.

 

“.....It is not a problem. I…..there are supposed to be monsters…..arriving shortly. I should greet them.”

 

Sans stood up. He was getting better at this. It was more difficult standing without a visual guide, but not impossible.

 

“you mean we. i’m bored, grillby. not that...that isn’t fun and all, but i need something to do.”

 

He almost cringed at how whiny he sounded. Grillby wasn’t answering. Was he too rude? Should he try to play it off as a joke? He really was bored, though, and if he didn’t find something to do soon he’d go crazy. Well, crazier. Talking to a voice in your head wasn’t exactly sane, even if it was real. 

 

“.....Alright…..clothes first.”

 

Sans whooped, “yes! thanks, grillbz.”

 

He oriented himself by the Eastern Bravery Pipeline. Hours and hours stuck in bed with only the CORE to see and talk to had turned him into something of an expert on its internal structure. He could pretty much navigate by those formations now, which definitely helped when he needed a drink. Or, you know, needed to impress his lover with his independance and self-sufficiency. 

 

Walking over to the closet was a snap, and finding the right bins was just a matter of trial and error. For some reason the entire CORE complex had no hangers, anywhere. He had no idea why. There were hooks on the wall, and drawers, and towel rods. But no hangers. It worked, but it was weird all the same.

 

He grabbed the first shirt he found and started pulling it on. A cough from behind him made him pause, shirt halfway down one arm and out of the next.

 

“what?”

 

“.....Stripes.”

 

Sans tilted his head slowly, trying to connect Grillby’s comment with anything of relevance. Then he remembered that the last time he’d been living here, he’d been a kid. Therefore all of his shirts, while they’d still fit, would make everyone think he was some unknown child. Especially since only a handful of monsters had seen him since he broke his skull.

 

“yeah, okay. i’m going to go digging. if i hit solid paydirt, let me know, kay thanks.”

 

Thus began ten minutes of rooting around in his childhood closet searching for any shirt that didn’t have stripes on it. He was honestly impressed with how many different shirts there were. Long sleeves, short sleeves, formal wear, vests, sweaters, tank tops - you name it, he had it. At least one, usually two or even three. It was ridiculous. 

 

Finally, he stood there, one lonely button-up from the very bottom of the pile held dejectedly in his hands.

 

“this is the last one, grillbz. please tell me it’s safe.”

 

“.....It is not striped….”

 

Sans felt relief wash over him, “oh thank-”

 

“Pink.”

 

Silence descended.

 

“pink?”

 

“.....Pink. Violently so.”

 

Sans considered for a moment, then tossed up his hands.

 

“you know what? fine! pink it is then. if my brother could wear it, so can i. it’s not like anyone’s going to recognise me anyway, so who cares?”

 

He once again started into the process of failing to undo buttons. Buttons, he decided, were the single worst invention humans had ever invented. Right up there with touchscreens and paper shredders. Don’t get him started on paper shredders.

 

Grillby’s arms encircled his body and pulled him close. The hug did not help with the unbuttoning, but hugs beat manual labor every time. He snuggled in closer.

 

“not that i’m objecting, but what brought this on?”

 

“.....I love you, Sans.”

 

He chuckled into the flame, “yeah, you’ve said. me too...do you love me enough to unbutton this shirt for me?”

 

Grillby kissed the top of his skull, “.....Of course.”

 

* * *

 

“so...any idea who’s coming?”

 

Grillby shook his head. Sans sighed from his station in the his lap. The skeleton had started out pacing. Then he sat down against a wall. Then he stood up, walked over to Grillby, tugged him over to sit against the wall, and nestled into his lap. Sans had been tracing the dips and filaments of Grillby’s hand ever since.

 

With Sans’ spine pressed tight against him through the fabric of his pants, Grillby had no doubt his skeleton could feel his every movement. It certainly made conversing easier. His throat was becoming rather sore after more than a week of extensive verbalization. It was nice to take a break.

 

“what are we gonna do when they get here, anyways? guide ‘em through the core? or are they expecting to stay the night?”

 

Grillby shrugged. Probably the later, but knowing Alphys’ worries, the refugees might have been told to hurry through as politely as they could. Not that he would blame them. In fact, that might be better than the alternative. Letting residents of Snowdin stay around Sans for any length of time was a recipe for condolences, which, after Sans’ performance this morning...well, best to avoid those.

 

The flame had been alive long enough to know what it took for a monster to process their grief. A few days of emotional overload mixed with danger and a large helping of pain and uncertainty was not it. Sans could not possibly have gotten far enough in that process in this amount of time to be as okay with Papyrus’ death as he was pretending to be. It was more likely that his poor skeleton, who’d never been that good with his emotions to begin with, was in a period of shock that would end in yet another stage of intensive grieving.

 

Grillby would guess anger or pleading. Neither of those was a state the people of Snowdin needed to see. Especially considering the overpowered toddler watchdog that might take Sans’ words literally. No, Grillby would not put it past Alphys to have asked the refugees to hurry through. Speaking of which, they should have-

 

[There are monster people I do not know upstairs, Sans and flame friend.]

 

Well, it looked like they were going to find out the scientist orders very soon. Grillby hoped, as Sans rocketed in the approximate direction of the elevator, that whoever Alphys had sent wouldn’t cause the skeleton too much damage.

 

* * *

 

“Would you look at that. It’s Sans! We were beginning to worry about you - after what your brother did, a lot of us got worried when you didn’t show up in the evacuation. Still, I suppose it all works out, hmm?”

 

Sans turned his skull to face the general direction the Shopkeeper’s words had come from. Of course, from a logical perspective, he should have foreseen this difficulty from the moment he heard that some of the people from Snowdin would be coming through. Somehow that didn’t calm the raging torrent of ‘crap i didn’t think this through’ that was whirling through him. 

 

The problem was simple, really. He couldn’t see. That didn’t begin to touch on all the repercussions, though. He relied more heavily on his ability to judge people’s faces than he had realised. Being thrust  _ blindly  _ (heh) into conversation with someone he knew and had always watched closely was scary. How was he supposed to know how to react? How was he supposed to know what to say? 

 

Grillby was different - he’d never been able to read the flame’s face. It was always sound, so nothing much had changed, and then he’d had the bond. Gerson and Alphys had happened when he was too tired and bombarded with information and terror to care. But now he had the space to panic, so he was. If it wasn’t so damned terrifying he’d be laughing at the joke. 

 

There was no hope for it, he’d just have to  _ play it by ear _ . Heh. He didn’t even have ears. Heh. Yeah...what was he supposed to say now? She hadn’t asked him a question, exactly. He couldn’t see if her body language was casual or tense, fearful or aggressive, worried or joking. Any of those could fit her words, and the bunny family had never been good at throwing off reliable verbal ticks.

 

“um...yeah.”

 

“That’s all we’ve been talking about lately. You two were the talk of the town for so long. Such interesting adventures, always something new.” 

 

Sans tried not to let his relief show too obviously. Of course, this was the Shopkeeper. Get her started talking and you’d be there ‘till Giftmas. Now all he had to do was wait it out.

 

“But no one ever realised how  _ selfless _ he was. Holding them off like that - there’d be a lot less of us around now if he hadn’t. So brave.” 

 

That rankled him. Why was she talking about his brother like that? She’d barely given him the time of day before. Her nose would wrinkle and then it was “Oh, did you hear that? My cinnamon bunnies must be done baking,” or “You know, I heard that Ice Cap was planning on cleaning out his territory again. Isn’t that where you put your newest puzzle?” Why was she talking about him as if he was the coolest when she’d never done so before?

 

“Still, I suppose you never realise how good you’ve got it until it’s gone.”

 

Sans sucked in a breath to rail at her for daring to act like she knew him. Papyrus was his brother, damn it, the most amazing and cool monster down here, and she dared to-

 

Warm arms wrapped around him, massaging his collarbone. Gentle lips pecked his forehead. Calming love radiated through his bond. Sans stood, stupefied, as crackling words from his flame washed over the top of him. The cauldron of anger drained away, and the only thing he could think about it was “oh. wonder what that was all about.”

 

Footsteps bounced back to him from the metallic walls of the CORE. Grillby’s heat pushed into him, and soon Sans felt himself leaning back into the bartender’s chest, relishing the warm.

 

“.....Better, Sans?”

 

“mhmn.”

 

“.....Not going to blow up at me?”

 

“mnmn.”

 

“.....want to talk about it?”

 

Sans just snuggled up closer. He didn’t want to think about that.

 

“.....She mentioned her sisters are going to be here…..in an hour or two.”

 

Sans wavered. Building up that amount of anger had exhausted him, since he never got angry like that, ever ever ever. He was so glad Grillby had come when he did - but just because it had drained didn’t mean it couldn’t build up again. He didn’t want to blow up at someone - but he also didn’t want to worry anyone. And avoiding people from Snowdin only meant questions about why you weren’t there. But if he went…

 

“Sans…..do you want something to do?”

 

What? That was the most non sequitur - oh, wait. That might work. If he was doing something, chances were people wouldn’t try as hard to converse with him. Especially if he looked concentration-y. 

 

“grillbz you’re a genius.”

 

The warmth increased. It was nice, like basking on the heat rolling into Waterfall on the edge of Hotlands. 

 

“.....I believe I saw some potatoes…..”

 

* * *

 

Grillby kept a close eye on Sans as he talked with Peter and his mother, Beatrix. Reassuring them was almost second nature, as the eldest of the bunny clan had been coming to him for advice since she was in stripes. Something about a quiet monster in glasses, he supposed. The act left more than enough room for him to worry about his skeleton’s state of mind.

 

Sans was fairly slow. Every stroke with the peeler had a solid, clean strip of dirty skin coiling onto the pile. It was rather impressive, considering Sans’ arms were vibrating visibly. Young Peter was mesmerized by the sight. The young monster was in a phase where everything he did, he did intently. It could be very worrying to have him watching you, so he supposed Sans lucked out. 

 

Then again, the shaking suggested he could still feel the intensity. Maybe being blind didn’t prevent the sensation from coming through.

 

Of course, the skeleton might have been struggling instead to hold down his anger. Beatrix was going on about how noble Papyrus was, and how wonderful a brother. She’d apparently made the connection between Sans’ injuries and his eyesight, because her worries were mainly about Sans, how he was doing, how he’d been injured, and other things of that nature. Every other sentence was something along the lines of, “Papyrus would be so worried about him,” or a reminiscence of a time the taller brother had asked her for advice. 

 

Unlike her sister, Beatrix found Papyrus endearing rather than annoying. She’d given him motherly advice for how to take care of Sans time and again. Grillby knew this, since a few months after the brothers had moved in Beatrix had come into his bar asking for the differences between raising a skeleton and raising a rabbit monster. He’d found her a old book one of the traveling healers had left behind before she was born. 

 

He might have known this, but Sans didn’t. His motions had become jerkier, and Grillby was seriously considering burning the remaining potatoes rather than risk his bondmate slicing off his own thumb. Before he could make up his mind, Bonny returned from her trip up to their packs. She was holding something, stretching it between her paws, and shaking like a leaf. Of course, the last probably had more to do with her unprecedented state of sobriety than her emotions.

 

She scurried over to Sans’ table, stepping over Peter with the ease and absentmindedness of long practice. Grillby started to move towards her, but Beatrix held him back.

 

“Please, Grillby, let her try? It’s the first thing I’ve seen her do since...you know. Mom. Sobering up has been hard on her, but when she heard about Sans-”

 

Grillby saw the young lady, whom he had watched bury herself in the solace of drinking and his bar ever since the matriarch of their clan was taken out by the human who brought them the sixth SOUL, mutter a few words and dump a mess of blue fabric onto Sans’ skull. Her cheeks were flushed almost as bright as they were most nights at closing, but her eyes were lighter, despite the tears. 

 

“-it was like a switch flipped. She sold her old blanket for the fabric, you know the one. Bella showed her how to thread the needle, and old Mrs. Cake gave her the thread.”

 

Sans set down the potato - onto the peelings, Grillby noticed with a grimace - and reached cautiously up to his skull. The cloth snagged for a moment on the rough edges of his former nasal cavity, but soon came free. He felt around the edges as Bonny rambled, his phalanges sliding over carefully attached fluff. 

 

“She made Alphys show us the video again, and you know I didn’t notice the cut across his ribs? But she did, and she decided to make him a new coat, just like his old. No idea why - it’s not like she had a crush on him or anything. Bonny’s never wanted anything like that, although she flirts like an Aaron when she’s in her cups. You’d think...well, I suppose it doesn’t matter.”

 

Sans had finally realised just what it was he was holding. His hands gripped the edge of the hood, and Grillby had to admit, looking at it, that it was obvious Bonny’d never held a needle before in her life. Light shown through the seems, and bits of fluff poked through to the back. The pockets were lopsided, and the hood was easily twice as big as Sans’ entire torso. 

 

“She kept saying that Sans was always nice to her, even the time she got sick all over his boots. I think she pinned him as a hero, not sure why. He’s just Sans.”

 

Grillby couldn’t see Sans’ face through the hoodie. Judging by the way it shook, though, he’d lay odds that his skeleton was either furious or weeping. He really hoped it was weeping. Bonny didn’t look like she could take seeing her effort torn to shreds.

 

“.....Sans fought off the human…..just before the king. He held them off…..for hours. He helped evacuate Waterfall…..and Snowdin…..while his brother died keeping the child at bay…..He was alone for months…..he lost his sight…..he lost everything. On top of being…..’just Sans’.” 

 

It was tears. They streamed down from the fractured sockets as Sans slowly pulled on the sleeves of the gift. They were a little long, although Sans had always liked them that way. He could hide his hands or play with the cuffs. He did so now, feeling the fabric beneath his phalanges faithfully. Bonny had stopped talking and was holding her breath.

 

“‘Just Sans’ was tortured as a child…..’Just Sans’ was starved and ignored…..’Just Sans’ raised his brother alone…..If he was not a hero then….he is now.”

 

Beatrix’s sharp inhale could have been from his words. It could have been from a realization. It could even have been shock, seeing Sans throw himself at Bonny and start sobbing into her t-shirt. 

 

Bonny looked just as shocked as her sister. Then her aunt-ly instincts kicked in. She glop-ed gracelessly onto her knees, rubbed consolingly at his back with one paw, and starting rummaging through her pockets with the other. In the second pocket she found it - a mostly clean handkerchief - and draped it across his skull the same way she had the jacket. 

 

The skeleton pulled back, grabbed the square of fabric off his head, and started blowing. She made conciliatory patting motions while her nephew stared in fascination. Grillby could not help but agree. Who would have guessed Sans would fall apart like that over a coat?


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look! An update! That hasn't been teasing you for weeks...
> 
> I hope the pattern holds :)
> 
> (I have literally no control over this. I'm sorry)
> 
> Enjoy.

One thing Grillby could say about Bonny’s gift  was that it was sturdy. The hoodie might not be proportional, but by the stars it could take a beating. It had to, given that Sans wore it morning, noon, and night. Over the past two weeks Sans had cuddled it, stained it with food and tears, rubbed at it, gotten it caught on door handles and other protruding objects, tugged at it’s hems, slipped of the edge of a walkway and dangled helplessly from the hood of it for almost an hour, pulled at the sleeves, and generally put it through much more than any reasonable piece of clothing could manage to take. 

 

That was why, when Nice and his new bondmate came through carry an extra sack’s worth of clothes, Grillby had to restrain the urge to kiss them. Sans probably wouldn’t have taken it well.

 

Nice insisted on having Sans try every piece of clothing there. He’d said it was to make sure they fit, that he’d take the rest with him to the Capitol and bring back another load if it was needed. Grillby believed that for about two shirts, and the boy’s date was clearly failing to see through it as easily as he was. Sans blithely continued trying on each set while the young monster - Burgerpants, wasn’t it?- got more and more jealous at the attention his boyfriend was giving the short skeleton.

 

Grillby wondered if it would be polite to mention to the Hotlander that Sans had known Nice since he was 14.

 

* * *

 

_ The skeleton had just about scared Nice to death when the pubescent rabbit had tried to flirt with Papyrus. Most of the town had agreed with him. Nice had done the same thing to three other children, although none of them had broken down crying and hid under their own attacks. Everyone agreed that Papyrus had issues from wherever the skeletons came from, and they hoped he’d work them out before he chose to go looking for a mate, assuming he did so. _

 

_ Beatrix had sat the young rabbit down afterwards and explained that it was very rude to act so handsy with a monster that wasn’t consenting to it. Even if you meant well, not everyone was happy with the same things. Sometimes they might react badly to something for reasons that weren’t clear. It was important to let them have enough space to feel safe and to consider their feelings, too. Nice had been too scared to be within a hundred feet of either skeleton for decades afterward.  _

 

_ He’d finally worked up the courage to apologize a few weeks before the human showed up. He’d given Papyrus a note and a bag of little strips of paper. The note apologized and told him to use the slips anytime someone was making him uncomfortable like that, so Papyrus wouldn’t feel trapped again. They said things like, “You have a great smile, but please share it with someone who is more comfortable with it” and, “If you want help practicing your pickup lines again, let me know! I’m sure whoever you’re preparing for will love them.” _

 

_ Less than a week later a mysterious stranger had left a functioning ice cream cart by the door to his house. Everyone knew it was Sans, even Nice. He’d started his own business, and the first thing he did was give both skeletons free coupons.  _

 

_ They’d never used them. _

 

* * *

 

With that history, there was no way Nice was actually interested in Sans in a sexual way. He just wanted to rile Burgerpants up a bit. Sans was going with it because...why? He didn’t especially like Nice, did he? Maybe he disliked the cat monster? No, he’d actually sounded almost...sympathetic when he’d talked to the monster about the death of his employer. So what was - oh. Pranks. That would do it. Grillby supposed it had been a while since Sans had been able to prank someone, and this was fairly close. He hoped his skeleton realised they might be pushing it.

 

Burgerpants blinked, sighed, pulled out a roll of catnip, and lit up.

 

[Why is he making smoke inside me?]

 

Grillby thought back two concepts: ignorance and stress. The CORE acted satisfied, and Sans pulled off yet another shirt and threw it at the rejects corner. It landed a few feet short of the pile, but nobody had bothered to fix the heaps yet. Nice grabbed a pair of blue sweatpants and opened his mouth.

 

“Nice, buddy, pal.”

 

The blue ears triangulated on Burgerpants voice, “Yes Burgy?”

 

“I get it. Really I do. But can you hold off teasing me until we get our new digs? There’s no way Sans and Grillby are going to let us steal their bed for a fuck.”

 

Grillby slowly lifted one hand and cupped his forehead morosely. This latest generation was far too blunt for his sanity. Couldn’t the cat monster had chosen to say anything else? Anything?

 

“dunno about that, but i doubt you’d want to use it if we did. grillby hangs off the edge if he tries going straight in it.”

 

Both Nice and Burgerpants stared at the skeleton. Nice looked as if he might break into laughter at any moment, although why he was laughing would be a bit of a toss up. It could be mirth. It could be embarrassment. Burgerpants seemed to have forgotten his joint in the confusion, because it was getting dangerously close to singeing his lips. 

 

Grillby decided that he could no longer put off certain conversations with his skeleton. How Sans had managed to avoid statements like that during all his years in Snowdin was a mystery. Now, it was suddenly very urgent to complete his education, if only to prevent more moments like this.

 

The joint burnt down, and Burgerpants swore. He waved his paw so fast it blurred, growling and cursing all the while. Sans’ skull was facing him with an air of confusion and concern. 

 

“.....Allow me to get…..some ice for you. It is downstairs…..Sans will help.”

 

Sans passed him a pulse of indignation, but he was already moving. He towed his lover along behind him by his oversized blue hood, and he did not doubt the other two were giving them strange looks.

 

Once in the elevator, Sans reclaimed his hood with a huff, “what was that for? you can handle ice just fine, grillz, you don’t need me for it.”

 

He dimmed, “That is…..not it. I just…..”

 

Grillby felt at a loss for how to continue. Sans stared up at him, radiating annoyance. It slowly faded into amusement.

 

“seriously grillby? are you jealous? of nice?”

 

“What?” Grillby’s flames popped wildly, “No, I just-”

 

Sans started giggling. It was a completely un-Sans-like sound that Grillby wanted to stop immediately.

 

“you are! grillz the first time i met him i scared him shitless!”

 

“You gave him a cart.”

 

Grillby didn’t know why he said that. He certainly wasn’t jealous of a lanky teenager with bad manners and floppy ears. This was just encouraging Sans - he should stop.

 

Sans tilted his skull, “no, i didn’t? why would i do that, i barely know him, and he’s rude to...why would i do that?”

 

Now Grillby was confused, “.....He apologized…..and a week later a cart showed up. Who else would it be?”

 

Sans shrugged, “i don’t know, his sisters? they kept sending mk over to get parts from the garbage dump for a few months there. and anyway, that wasn’t an apology. a bag of backhanded insults is  _ not _ an apology. dunno ‘bout you, but i call it rude.”

 

Grillby stared at him, “.....He mentioned a note.”

 

The elevator settled to a halt, and the doors whooshed open. Sans continued as they walked, his elbows thrust forward. It was a technique he’d developed to keep himself from slamming sockets-first into the scenery. 

 

“nope. just a bag full of rude left at the front door. wasn’t even addressed to pap, but, you know. some of the notes were pretty obvious.”

 

Grillby wondered about that. Was this just another example of Sans’ overprotectiveness, or did Nice really do something so...unkind?

 

“anyways, i don’t like him, so...wait, not like that, i don’t  _ hate  _ him, i just...ugh. you don’t need to be threatened, i’d rather drop a bucket of rotten human food over his head than kiss him. actually, that sounds kinda fun. maybe not  _ rotten _ , just, you know, squishy. cream pies and stuff...wait, that’s an insult to pies...maybe a tub of gelatin? no, moldsmaal wouldn’t like that...crap. i’m stuck, g, help me out. is there anything soft around here i can dump on him?”

 

Grillby was doubled over in laughter by this point, his flames dancing in mirth so powerful it had stolen his voice, his height, and his muscle power, all in one go. Sans was beaming at him - or rather, his SOUL was beaming along their connection. He himself was just a pair of pajama clad legs at the edge of Grillby’s field of vision.

 

Moments like this, with Sans describing a joke he planned to pull on some unsuspecting monster and pulling more and more ridiculous ideas out of his cranium, made him feel more at home than seeing his former neighbors ever could. Despite all the horror that had led to this moment, it was still Sans. And with Sans here, now, finally his to love and adore openly and be loved and adored back...it filled him with contentment. 

 

* * *

 

Alphys dropped her smile the moment the door shut behind the last group of refugees heading out to the Capitol. It felt like a lifetime had passed since the human. She wasn’t the same monster anymore, that was a fact. Some days she woke up and didn’t have the energy to do anything. She still did, because there were so many monsters relying on her, monsters that were living not ten feet away. But now…

 

Everyone was moving on. The Capitol was changing, apparently. Even with the influx of refugees from all over the Underground, so many homes were going empty. But people were adapting, dismantling entire buildings and using the stones to blockade the Barrier. Once, they would have given anything to break it. Now they wished it had been stronger.

 

Grillby and Sans were doing well, apparently. The flames’ reports painted a picture of slow recovery, mentally at least. They didn’t leave the CORE much, and the way Grillby talked about it made it almost sound alive. She suspected the radiation might be getting to him, or maybe he could hear the combustion chambers? It didn’t really matter. He wasn’t dangerous, and Sans seemed to be getting less so by the day. The residents of Snowdin made trips to see them fairly regularly, and there was even talk of building a bar, or revamping the one in the Resort. 

 

Even Gerson was heading up there. He’d called the day before. He’d been feeling lonely in those caves, and he’d found a place living near a relative in the city? She hadn’t really caught that part, but he was making the trek through the less well connected parts of the Underground on his way through. He’d already started. He wanted her to give “those two lovesick idiots” a head’s up. She’d sent out an email earlier, so she didn’t even have to do that.

 

Alphys was so tired. It had been almost a year since Undyne’s death, but her SOUL still ached. She’d hoped, for a while anyway, that it would fade, that maybe their bond wasn’t as deep as Gerson made it out to be. She’d abandoned that hope along with so many others. It wasn’t going away.

 

She trudged over to the escalator, her lackluster tail dragging on the floor. The bottom floor was a mess. It was always a mess, but now it was a mess that she barely even recognised. Hundreds of people and a desperate skeleton passing through would do that to any space.

 

A blinking light at the other end of the hall caught her sagging attention. It was probably nothing, but...it wasn’t as if she had anything else to do. And she wasn’t quite ready to admit to herself what going upstairs and lying down would mean. So she dragged herself over to the monitor and clicked the alert.

 

It was the Ruins door camera, which was odd. It’d shown nothing but the swelling curve of a deep pile of snow ever since that terrifying fight. At first glance, that was all it showed now. The Ruins door was still blockaded, and nothing stirred on the empty path. Alphys was ready to dismiss it as an error in her recognition algorithm. Then a small avalanche of snow rolled down the pile.

 

Her lethargy vanished as the sight sunk in. Someone was there, in the pile, or on the other side of that door. Someone was trying to move it. Someone was coming. Was it the human or the monster that had nearly killed - that  _ had _ killed Sans? It didn’t matter, really. Both were just about as terrifying. Both needed her to act. 

 

Thinking about Sans, she pulled up the video’s time stamp. She really, really didn’t want a repeat of the ‘where is he I can see him right there but he isn’t there oh wait this is from a week ago’ incident…

 

Crap. Her desperate scrabble for her phone redoubled as the timestamp from two days previous blinked back.


	21. Chapter 21

Time did not matter in a realm of warm, rushing blackness. Oh, it existed. That did not mean it mattered much. There was only so much logic that could survive here before it broke. Not that the main inhabitant would notice. He’d been far too busy wailing at himself and sobbing to mark its passage. 

 

Gaster had gone past the point of making himself sick long ago. Several times, actually. It was amazing how difficult it is to comfort yourself when trapped in a SOUL-twisting featureless expanse of black.

 

It wasn’t even words that brought him out of it. No words would have been heard. No, Gaster found his sobs slowly ebbing away under an unexpected onslaught of pure...call it concern. No, not concern. More like...fierce curiosity?

 

He did not have time to begin to wonder about that before an image swamped him. It was not unlike the windows he had seen in the Void. This, however, seemed more stabile. In fact, it seemed fixed, which was rather unfortunate given its subject.

 

Sans was tangled with the blankets on his old bed, one star spattered corner dipping into his mess of broken sockets. Sans had always been like that - even as a babybones he’d been able to worm his way into a nest of blankets, stuffed animals, or pillows whenever they were provided. Gaster had found rescuing him from the inevitable knots fun, once. He wondered when he had stopped bothering. 

 

It had certainly been before the cage. Anger and sadness warred inside him at the melted bars, although you could hardly notice underneath all the guilt. Under what circumstances had he ever thought putting metal bars around his child’s bed was okay? Yes, Sans had more surges than Gaster had anticipated, and yes, the bric a brac had a tendency to fly at insane velocities around the room whenever he did. But that in no way excused a lock on the outside of the door.

 

At least Grillby seemed to have seen to that. In all honesty, if Gaster as he was now had been in the same room as that cage for more than two seconds, the entire thing would have been broken down into its molecular components within seconds. 

 

The padding on the floor was a nice touch though. Sans would probably enjoy bouncing on it enough to leave it be and  _ not _ nest in it. Sure enough, Sans, who he hadn’t realised until that moment had awoken, was already unrolling his nest and landing on the floor. 

 

His son’s stats flew up onto the screen for a moment:

 

**Sans**

6/1 HP

1 (0) ATK

1 (0) DEF

99999/255 MP

1 LV

0 XP (10 to next LV)

*learning to accept some things. trying to forget others.

 

Gaster breathed out. The padding was definitely working, and Sans’ reserves were as full as they’d ever been. He’d always wondered why the stats had such odd maximum values. Poor planning perhaps?

 

He supposed it didn’t matter. So long as Sans was healing- no. So long as Sans was living the healthy, happy life he’d deserved to be given and never received, Gaster could be…

 

Sans was back in bed? Odd. Perhaps the window had glitched. His son certainly didn’t seem to have noticed anything, and Sans was usually fairly good about that. It seemed he was waking up faster this time, but that could very well be Gaster’s own state of mind previously. He should be rolling out of bed soon…yes, there he went. It barely took him any effort to stand, too, and most of that was from the padding. He was adjusting, then. That was-

 

O...kay. Sans was back in bed. This was...not as repetitive as a glitch would have been. If it had reset from the same...place...oh no. Not again. Please, stars, don’t make his son go through this again. 

 

Three loops later and Gaster was moving out of denial and into fury. How DARE the human return after everything they did! How DARE they return after all this time! If Gaster could get get his hands on that human...no, better to get his hands on their SOUL. He did not doubt who was truly responsible for this nightmare, and if he could not make up for every other promise he had broken, at the very least he could fix this.

 

The Void might have allowed him to bring Chara back, but if this is what its twisted, vile taint had led them to do, he would drag her back into oblivion with him rather than let his son face this again!

 

As if hearing his thoughts, the window changed. A duel hung before him painted in glowing reds. Gerson’s hammer swung through the air with the same slowness it always had. There was an inevitability to it, though. Whoever he was facing would invariably end up exactly where his strike was aimed, whether they tried to dodge or not. His hammer would find you, wherever you were, and crush you like the bug you were. 

 

There could be no worthier target of that weapon than the human who crouched before him. Gaster saw them shoulder the blow, brushing aside damage that would have brought Asgore and Toriel both to their knees. The human child in a badly stained shirt shoved something dusty and stringy into their mouth. 

Their stats shone:

 

**Chara/** **Frisk**

87+/111

44 (99) ATK

15 (99) DEF

23 LV

-7833 EXP (908 to next LV)

*Got bored with the humans. Came back for some fun :)

 

Despite himself, Gaster was impressed. Everyone knew the max LV was 20. Apparently somewhere on the surface, that fact had changed. And clearly whoever had designed the EXP counter had never intended it to go above 99999. Chara seemed to have maxed it out and looped back around the other side. 

 

Somehow, the flavor text didn’t surprise him. Chara had always been so...obsessed with  _ doing _ . They could never stop, never sit still, never wait for the next big thing. It always had to be NOW.

 

Well, he was still angry enough that the terror wasn’t registering. Clearly he had to do something…

 

What? He could sit here and watch, or he could waste his magic trying to ACT through a window he didn’t understand and couldn’t control.

 

It wasn’t as though he had anything to lose. He reached. Surprisingly, he could feel it working...but not well enough.

 

* * *

 

It was the sensation of folded time that did it to him. Age meant nothing to his magic. Moreso did the regret that the first human, a child he had bandaged and trained with and read to sleep, had become so twisted from the quiet thing they had been that they thought this was their only choice. But the weight of a hundred, a  _ thousand _ resets...aye, that would make anyone exhausted. The sheer volume of memories made Gerson’s head feel like it was going to split. He had a lot more respect for that skeleton of Grillby’s than he’d had before.

 

“Hmph. Can’t say I think much of what you’ve become, young Chara. Turning my own tricks on me? Almost as bad as Asgore, wah ha ha!”

 

The human’s expression didn’t change, but the SOUL never lies. He saw the twitch. Just for a moment, two SOULs tried to choose, two personalities fought for the final action. Two hearts almost identical in shade split barely apart. He wondered who was voting for MERCY. Whoever it was didn’t win.

 

Gerson staggered to his knees. He saw his dust buffered by the thermals from the magma. His dust had always had a glint to it, a sheen of red. It had been so familiar to him over his long life, and yet it wasn’t until now that he could give it a name.

 

Determination, furious and raging at the world it could not reclaim, descended upon his dying form.

 

* * *

 

-YOU WON!-

-You won 999 XP and 28 gold.-

 

...

 

-Your LOVE increased!-

 

* * *

 

Sans woke with more exhaustion that he rightly considered fair. After all, he had just been asleep. Why did he have to be tired already?

 

The muddled impression of a dream even more repetitive than his usual knocked at his forebrain. He ignored it. So what? His entire life had been plagued by time being repeated, RESET, and generally broken beyond belief. Dreaming about it didn’t surprise him.  _ Not _ dreaming about it would have worried him.

 

He looked around the black void and saw the bond with Grillby. It was rather thin- oh, right. His flame had gone to meet Gerson. Sans had chosen to wriggle into the warm spot under the covers and go back to sleep. Getting out of bed today just seemed like a bad idea. 

 

Grillbz had given him a kiss on the skull before he fell asleep. Sans was starting to become addicted to those touches. It hardly seemed like a problem.

 

Somewhere down the maze of metal corridors, Sans heard the distorted echo of the phone ringing. He should go answer that, shouldn’t he? Ugh. At least he was wearing pants.

 

Sans rolled out of bed and onto the thick pad of blankets Grillby had insisted on setting up to protect him. It certainly made getting out of bed more fun. Probably safer, too, but Sans could care less about that. The pad was almost thick enough to bounce!

 

...it belatedly occurred to the skeleton that he had no idea where he needed to go.

 

“hey core, what room is the phone in?”

 

[In the kitchen.]

 

Sans stood up and oriented himself by the Justice circuitry.

 

“thanks.”

 

He set out.

 

* * *

 

Alphys stared at the monitors with growing nausea. One hand gripped her cell with sweaty claws. The dial tone from the other end rang in almost perfect sync with the human’s movements. 

 

The hated figure in a shirt, which was so grey with dust and brown stains you could barely make out the stripes, was dodging Gerson’s swings with terrifying ease. Given what she knew now, Alphys wondered how many tries it had taken them to get so good. How many Alphyses had stood here, maybe leaving to throw up, maybe too entranced to turn away?

 

She’d seen Grillby entering the elevators earlier. Then she’d found the fight. She had to head him off - she had to try. She didn’t think she could face Sans, knowing she’d failed. Unfortunately, the only one who could reach him now was that same skeleton. That same  _ blind _ skeleton. Who she was desperately hoping would manage to answer the phone.

 

* * *

 

“here?”

 

[More left.]

 

Sans dragged the chair another meter or so along the wall. He’d long since exhausted his vocabulary of curses. The monster who had installed this wall mount for Gast- for  _ HIM _ was definitely not thinking about the shorter population of the world when he did so. The cord dangled  _ just _ above his questing phalanges. Thus, the chair.

 

“here?”

 

[Half a more left.]

 

Sans tried his best. The phone gave up on ringing. The silence echoed with his own frustration. He’d be dust if he wasted this much effort now.

 

“what about now?”

 

[Half a half a more right.]

 

Sans clambered onto the chair, muttering, “good enough.”

 

He felt along the wall haphazardly, which predictably resulted in him stubbing his phalanges on the plastic cradle. He cursed, shook them, and then snatched up the phone. His other hand reached for the number pad.

 

Leaning out of a chair with your arms outstretched is a horrible time to realize you can’t actually call someone back without knowing their number. He groaned, slamming the phone back onto its cradle.

 

“i don’t suppose you know who was calling, do you?”

 

[The phones do not talk to me.]

 

“well, that figures.” 

 

Sans folded his arms over his ribcage. Unreasonable feelings of urgency- well, unreasonable for him- rose and were promptly squashed.

 

“guess we’ll have to wait for them to call back.”

 

* * *

 

The shock of seeing the Hammer of Justice, her soulmate’s mentor and one of the most famous survivors of the War in the Underground, fall to his knees before the blade of the human petrified Alphys. Her cell fell from her limp claws with a clatter, but she could not bring herself to look away.

 

The sight of the human’s SOUL splitting brought her back. That was impossible!

 

But...but what if…

 

Her claws shook as Alphys recovered the phone. She needed to call Sans. He had to know. He had to. If she was right-

 

The call was answered before she even realized she had dialed.

 

“hey, thanks for calling back. i was trying to get to the phone but-”

 

Hearing another voice broke the dam. Her thoughts gushed out of her mouth.

 

“It bifurcated! Just for a m-moment, but- and ghosts d-d-do that when they’re possessing things. But-”

 

“alphys? what the hell are you talking about?”

 

She blinked as her chain of thought caught up with current events. Then, somehow, the floodgates opened further.

 

“SANSthankthegodsyoupickedupHe’sfightingthemImeanGersonisandhe-”

 

Alphys turned back to the monitors and froze. The human was throwing a raging fit inside a pile of… a pile of…

 

“fighting who?” Sans voice was panicked.

 

The scientist sobbed, “Oh gods, Gerson. No, no no. Nonononono.”

 

“ **alphys.** ”

 

The words rang like the Abyss at the ends of the Garbage Dump. Her attention snapped back to the phone.

 

“It’s the human! Sans you have to warn-”

 

A fireball lit up the screen. The camera was barely able to handle the heat of it. The image undulated and- oh, no. She banged the side of the screen. The blackout didn’t leave. The camera must have melted.

 

“S-s-sans, Grillby is...Sans?”

 

Only static lived there now.


	22. Chapter 22

Gaster watched the fight break out impassively. Or perhaps not impassively, no, not impassively. That was not the word. Certainly it was without much emotion. Then again, he hadn’t slept in more time than he could count, and he hadn’t eaten in even longer. Of course, that hadn’t stopped him before. 

 

But he hadn’t had to watch one of his oldest and only friend’s dust be scattered amongst the dirt in such utter desecration before. He hadn’t had to watch  _ any _ of his friends die before. He’d been far too sheltered during the war for that, and after...well, then too. He couldn’t bring himself to watch Asgore, even in the VOID. Even that warped mockery of his true self knew he didn’t deserve to.

 

Watching Gerson die hurt more than he thought it would. Enough that the early loops of Grillby’s fight passed him by. He knew they had happened, though, by the look on Chara’s face. The twisted scowl was praise enough for his old friend’s skill, even after all this time. 

 

Chara was seemingly stuck on the third wave of attacks. Gaster had to admire the cruelty of them, a green static shield paired with orange flames. If there was a way through it, Gaster couldn’t see it. Oh, a bone through Grillby’s legs would have done it, but the human didn’t…

 

The world looped back, and Chara tucked their knife into their waistband. What were they- oh, dear. The gun. Gaster had wondered where that had gotten to. It seemed somewhere along the line it had found a new human.

 

Bullets joined the fray as Grillby, still frustratingly dense when it came to repeats, kept the same patterns as before. He didn’t do anything to compensate! Idiot, at least he could have thrown up a shield on himself!

 

The human cleared the third wave, not easily, but they cleared it. Grillby didn’t look badly hurt, and he bounced back to kill them with an even more vicious attack the next round.

 

Gaster wondered why he fought so fiercely - oh, yes. Right. Grillby had just seen Gerson die. Yes. And he had Sans, too. Don’t forget about Sans. Gaster had done to much of that already. Far too much. The remains of the Underground probably had an influence, too, although you never could tell with Grillby. He was a very quiet and kind monster at heart - right up until he snapped and roasted you alive. Gaster could testify to that. 

 

So, that being said, it really didn’t matter why Grillby was pissed enough to burn the human to a fine, white ash. Nothing short of accomplishing that end or knocking himself unconscious would make him stop now. 

 

* * *

 

Sans sprinted about 30 meters down the CORE’s main axis. He skidded to a stop inches away from the peeling paint. He buried the not-memory of his own skull shattering on that same wall. Now was not the time to let the LOADs get to him. Now was the time to use them to his advantage.

 

“which way, core?”

 

[Left. Then a right in twenty more straights.]

 

Sans ran as fast as he dared down the shaft, curving down the side tunnel after the first ten feet. No looming wall met his face. He was breathing into ask the CORE where the next turn was when reality glitched.

 

Sans cursed and sped down the path towards Grillby; his feet were clicking just that little bit faster. Every time this happened his heart sank. Every time this happened, he made it farther than the time before. The problem was that every time this happened that dirty brother killer got closer to their goal, too.

 

* * *

 

Four waves had passed, then five, and the human now danced through them untouched. Gaster’s teeth were on the edge of cracking as he watched that creature mock Grillby. His void-stained SOUL throbbed with righteous fury. How dare they insult Grillby like that? He was a veteran, a hero, a flame who’d lit the darkness in those first terrifying years Underground. Gaster had no doubt he’d been evacuating Snowdin during their first rampage. It would not have been the first time. 

 

Grillby’s flame was unmoved by the taunts. He controlled his attacks with blinding power and efficiency. Not one spark was out of place, and every tendril fed back into the network. It was a masterwork of magic, the kind of attack that could last for hours. Gaster knew it well. He had designed it.

 

Seeing it here, thousands of years after the war he’d made it for, was bittersweet. He’d never wanted to see it again, not in battle at any rate. Changed for peace, yes, but in this form it was good for attack and  _ only _ attack. And yet it was Grillby using it, Grillby who so recently had thrown fire at his own stupid head, Grillby who was his only living friend, Grillby who loved his son. If he had to fight this infuriating demon, he could not do better than to do so with that spell at his side.

 

Gaster only hoped that it would be enough to outlast the human’s DETERMINATION.

 

* * *

 

Sans was making it as far as the hotel now. He’d never thought he’d be glad that the entire Underground had been murdered, but at least that meant there was nobody around to get in his way.

 

The fountain had proved a bit of a problem. The CORE had been terrified that it would lose him. Well, as close to terrified as it could be. As it turned out, their connection wasn’t even strained. The CORE was very confused, but Sans wasn’t. 

 

He’d spent a lot of time in the last few weeks reinforcing that odd bond of theirs. It now looked a lot like the one he had once had with his brother - dark blue coating a bright magical interior. After all, what the CORE needed from him wasn’t energy, but attention. And the adult him knew more about bonds than the child him ever had. Reinforcing it was easy. 

 

All of this flashed through his head in a heartbeat. Mostly, though, he was thanking every star he could name that he still had his ‘eyes’ - even if they did measure things weirdly. He needed them.

 

* * *

 

Gaster had long since passed through fury and out to the other side. Grillby was wearying. Just a little, hardly noticeable at all if you didn’t know him, but it was there if you knew where to look. Little splits in the flames of his hands and head. Ever so slight darkening of the flames at his core. Smoke curling as his fire ate at the clothing on his back. Grillby was wearying, and Gaster’s magic wasn’t recharging fast enough.

 

* * *

 

Sans was close enough to hear the battle now. It was awful, hearing the sizzling flames just long enough to get confident  before being jerked back to the start. But it did give him hope. Grillby hardly sounded winded at all.

 

* * *

 

Two more times passed before Gaster’s eyes so quickly he could barely blink. Interesting. The human must have lost their flow there. This time was holding, his son racing through the hotel with speed even a race car could envy. Sans’ face showed uncharacteristic impatience. No doubt he was anxious for this LOADing to be done.

  
  


Five LOADs later, Sans was close enough to feel the heat. It wasn’t nearly as strong as it had been; the fight in the snow was, to this, what a star was to a firefly. Grillby was losing his strength. 

 

Sans’ feet continued on autopilot as his mind wrapped around the bright magic in front of him. Bullet patterns were intricate things, as distinctive between monsters as human fingerprints. Messing one up in the middle of battle was easy, so if he were to join this fight he’d need to…

 

* * *

 

Grillby felt his legs begging to deform and ignored them. He felt his flames fraying at the edges. He ignored that. He felt his SOUL shudder and strain with every attack. This, too, was ignored. All that mattered was the human in front of him and the fight at hand. Every attack was meticulously structured. Every hit was brushed aside. He knew he would not be able to withstand this much longer. The human was undoubtedly using their LOADs to cheat.

 

But old flames were stubborn; he refused to go out. Not until the child’s corpse lay burnt before him. Sans could not face them again. Grillby wouldn’t let him.

 

The bone slicing up through their shoulder made a sound he never wanted to hear again. Two more followed, and the human snarled. Grillby turned in wonderment to catch the rocketing skeleton in his shaking grip.

 

“.....Sans?”

 

The skeleton tugged at his grip.

 

“come on, grillbz. time to leave.”

 

His flames popped in fury.

 

“.....They killed Gerson. I cannot-”

 

His words dissolved in a slash of spreading pain.

 

* * *

 

Sans tugged at the suddenly unresisting grip. His hand slipped and he lost his hold on Grillby’s hand. He waved around frantically for it. He couldn’t stand being parted from him so near to that thing. His hands met only gritty air.

 

Pain blossomed in his chest. It hurt more than anything he’d felt before; it was a 200, maybe a 300 even. It felt like someone was tearing his SOUL to pieces, only worse. It hurt so much it paralyzed him. 

 

[Sans?]

 

He ignored the CORE for the moment. He hurt too much to think, but he was trying. Something had happened to him. Grillby was right there. Why wasn’t his flame helping him?

 

[Is Grillby doing the weird thing?]

 

A stray breeze filled his skull with thick, clinging grit. It tasted like greasy burgers and love. It was dust. It was Grillby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry.
> 
>  
> 
> Don't forget about the tags. They do not lie. I promise.


	23. Chapter 23

Sans felt empty. He wasn’t sad or angry or shocked or anything. He just felt like a pot that had been full for years which had been emptied without warning. There wasn’t anything for his emotions to work with. He was just a shell. 

 

Part of his mind was taken up with the CORE’s increasingly desperate questions. It wasn’t very big, though, and it dealt with them by piling them up on the corner of its desk and ignoring them. He couldn’t answer if his life had depended on it. Heh. As if that had ever been a motive for him.

 

The crackle of glass not even a foot away broke him out of it. Suddenly he was furious, and furious with a target. The human was going to pay for this. The ENCOUNTER screen flashed into life around him.

 

“how dare you.”

 

He shot a dozen blasters off in sequence around the human’s dull red SOUL. They slashed back and he dodged with ease.

 

“grillby needs those glasses. why did you have to break them? he needs them to see!”

 

Blast. Dodge.

 

“you were gone for so long i began to hope, you know?”

 

A complicated array of bones took away most of their HP. They ate something. He couldn’t tell what without his eyesight. Their HP shot back up.

 

“i even found love. heh. but you, you just found LOVE.”

 

Bones smashed through either side of the arena. They took out another chunk of HP. The human didn’t eat anything, so Sans assumed they had run out of food. Pity. He’d have prefered this fight to continue longer. That way they could feel more pain.

 

“i’m not holding out this time.”

 

An attack worthy of his brother took away half their remaining HP. Sans smiled, bones chipping off along the cracks in his broken sockets.

 

“it’s not like i’m afraid to die anymore.”

 

Attack. Dodge.

 

“i already have.”

  

* * *

 

 

LOAD FILE?

 

YES.

 

* * *

 

The CORE didn’t understand why Sans was acting like this. It wasn’t a food thing or a sleep thing, and it didn’t look like a fun thing. So why was he doing it? He needed to, it could see that, but it couldn’t tell why. Sans wasn’t answering either. The CORE briefly considered not giving him the energy he was asking for, but decided against it. If it did that, Sans would do the weird thing, and it didn’t like the weird thing. 

 

It seemed like Sans was purposefully making the non-monster creature do the weird thing, only not really. They didn’t just alter their own tempo-morphic field, they altered all of the field that the CORE could sense, and that was really big. It was making it feel not good. It didn’t like it. It needed Sans to make the creature not do that. 

 

Sans didn’t listen. Sans always listened. Therefore, something was wrong with Sans. He wasn’t sleeping or doing the mushy thing or in pain or hungry. The CORE was at a loss. It needed to find out why Sans was wrong so it could fix it so Sans would make the creature stop hurting everything. It needs more information. 

 

It could ask Sans, but Sans isn’t listening. The flame is doing the weird thing and therefore cannot answer. So is the loud one that Sans likes. The yellow scientist isn’t looking at her keyboard, she is hiding under the desk. Thus, she cannot answer. There others who are there and not doing the weird thing. It tries them, one by one. None of them listen. None of them answer.

 

It needed someone who was not where Sans was who was not doing the weird thing who was listening who could answer. It looked around and found one.  _ He  _ was watching, and  _ he  _ wasn’t doing the weird thing.  _ He _ would have to do.

 

* * *

 

Emotions swirled in Gaster’s tattered SOUL like seaweed in a whirlpool. Fury would bob to the surface once instant, terror the next. Grief would overwhelm everything for a few painful seconds only to be overcome by guilt. How could any monster deal with these emotions? How could Sans?

 

Apparently by ignoring it. Sans was pounding into the human round after round with a grin on his face that would make anyone take a step back. It had teeth and sadistic joy. The growing cracks radiating out from the mess of his former nasal cavity and eye sockets did nothing to make the expression less intimidating. He looked as though he would crumble to dust at any moment. Gaster was terrified he would.

 

The pseudo-screen itself wasn’t helping. Gaster could see the massive fluctuations in Sans’ HP. One minute it would be impossibly high, the next somehow in the negatives. His MP wasn’t registering at all anymore. Instead it was a fuzzy mess of colors. Something had to be feeding him, it was the only explanation Gaster could come up with.

 

LOADs and LOADs passed before his sockets. Sans didn’t seem phased. If anything that terrible smile only grew wider. His attacks were cruel, designed to inflict as much physical damage as they could for every point of HP taken. He was making the human pay. But how much of Sans could possibly be left after damage like this? He was holding nothing back in this crusade for revenge - not even his SOUL.

 

Hundreds of LOADs later, a blurry box intruded on the bottom of his screen. Gaster ignored it at first; his whole being was focused on his sole remaining son’s battle. But a few LOADs later it became too insistent to ignore. He dragged his eye lights from the raging magic and down to the question in the box.

 

[Why does Sans feel so wrong?]

 

What did that mean? Was he allowed to ask for more information? Who was asking this, anyway? No sooner had he thought the question than the box refreshed.

 

[Sans is not listening to me. Sans feels bad. Sans is not being Sans. Yes, you can ask. I am the CORE.]

 

Alright. He was going crazy. Obviously. There was no way his greatest creation was talking to him. On the other hand, his son is fighting the human, all of his friends are dead, and he’s absolutely furious and powerless to do anything about it. He might as well act as if this is real.

 

It appeared as though he was now having a conversation with the CORE. Thus far it was talking like a baby with logic installed but no knowledge database or common sense. How to explain emotional trauma to a machine?

 

“Sans has been hurt. The human took everyone he knows. It took his brother, his friends, and his newly acknowledged bondmate. It emptied the underground and then came back just when he was beginning to heal. Monsters are not built to handle that much...emotional damage.”

 

[Oh. How can I fix this?]

 

Gaster replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “I don’t know. If the human had never done this, that might improve matters.”

 

[But they are already doing the weird thing, and they are not nice. They will not RESET the temporal fabric of this place for us.]

 

Gaster blinked. Then he blinked again. His sockets opened and closed some more. Minutes and LOADs later, he finally gave up. To hell with sanity - it hadn’t worked so far.

 

“if I could reach Chara’s soul I could pull them and the VOIDal influence out of the human. But I have no idea how to make them reset after that.”

 

[If you kill them inside me, then they cannot save because I have no internal temporal field. Because of this then they must reset. Also, you are within me, so then you could reach them. Would this work?]

 

“Oh, I’m inside you, am I? I suppose you’ll just whisk them in here the same way you did me.”

 

Someone should have informed Gaster that sarcasm had no effect whatsoever on the CORE. It just slipped right past it and on into the aether.

 

[Sans will know how to do this. I shall ask him.}

 

Gaster got to spend several minutes staring at a small spinning circle of doom. It wasn’t very interesting. Hopefully what followed would be less so.

 

* * *

 

LOAD FILE?

 

YE-

 

[Sans?]

 

The small skeleton floating in the limbo between SAVE states felt oddly detached. Nothing mattered except his fight with the human. This was only an interlude before it resumed.

 

[Sans? I have a question.]

 

In his detached state, the words meant little to him. What did a question matter when the fight would soon resume?

 

[Please, Sans?]

 

He sighed. His phalanges curled in the traditional motion to hurry up.

 

[I have found a plane to make Chara go away.]

 

Sans’ fury at this not-a-question made itself plain. He wanted to hurt them. If they left, that wouldn’t happen.

 

[They will hurt more this way.]

 

Sans didn’t believe it.

 

[You will also get back Grillby and the loud one.]

 

Sans grinned wide and said, “tell me.”


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry it's been so long. My computer went down and I only just now got a new one. We're very near the end - only one or two chapters left until the end of what I have planned. I might do one-shot stuff after that in the same universe. No guarentees.

-ES

 

* * *

 

 

As time resumed to flow around him, Sans had to work to keep that reckless, pushed-beyond-his-wits expression on his skull. He couldn't let it show that anything had changed. This plan relied on it.

 

He threw out vicious attacks interspersed with acidic comments. He fired off blasters without pause. He grinned and laughed at appropriate mome- well, no. Not appropriate moments. Messed up, disturbed moments. But context appropriate ones. 

 

There was only one difference between his behavior now and before. Before, he had drawn on the CORE for an endless and selfish stream of magic. Now, he let the effort drain him slowly. Very slowly. And obviously. 

 

It didn't work the first time. They slipped on what sounded like the broken remains of Grillby’s glasses. That slip landed them smack dab in the middle of a barrage of bones. 

 

* * *

 

The next time, they tripped and sailed over the edge of the cliff. It was the only explanation he had for the several long seconds of silence that ended in a splash, a sizzle, and a LOAD.

 

* * *

 

Number three was promising. They got more than ten rounds in, and then a stupid misstep ended it all. He felt frustrated, but an onrush of patience from the CORE buoyed his SOUL. They'd get through eventually. 

 

* * *

 

LOAD number eight arrived and left quickly. They must be nearly as tired as he was. Otherwise they would never have dropped to such a simple attack. 

 

* * *

 

It was in the fifteenth LOAD that the plan finally came together. The human passed through round after round damage-free. Well, nearly damage-free. He wasn't going to let them go without some serious retribution. They deserved it. 

 

In the twenty-sixth round, his exhaustion caught up with him. His knees buckled underneath him. His coccyx bruised when it hit the ground. He saw their dull-red SOUL approaching at a menacing pace. He scrambled back. An abrupt drop beneath his phalanges marked the end of his journey. He scowled at the human, but they just kept coming. 

 

He threw a few kicks and elbows when the kids got close, but nothing deterred them. The blows were to weak to make a difference. One squishy, dust-coated hand braced the back of his skull. In the same movement, there other hand drove a blade through his fractured face and out the back of his skull. 

 

For Sans, everything went white. 

 

* * *

 

Sans woke up to the feel of a cover-less bed. The magic of the CORE was all around him, buzzing and fizzing with delight. The plan had worked. Sans had RESPAWNED back in his childhood bedroom, right in the center of the CORE.

 

The small skeleton rolled out of the bed onto the heap of bedding he'd left there earlier and Grillby’s thoughtful pads. He got slowly to his feet. He pulled energy from the CORE until his reserves were full to bursting. Then he padded his way over to the wall. More specifically, to a panel on the wall he had discovered and made heavy use of as a child.

 

The walls of his bedroom echoed with the sounds of metal bending.

 

* * *

 

The dust covered human scoured every inch of Hotland looking for monsters. They'd passed through most of it already, but this time, they wanted to be sure. Not one stone remained unturned. Not one edge escaped being peered over. Not one scrap of wood missed the touch of their knife.

 

The only place they could not check was the lab. The doors were shut and locked tight, and nothing they tried convinced that yellow coward to open them. LOAD after LOAD and nothing budged. Pity. 

 

The hotel looked absolutely decrepit. Dust and mold covered everything. Cracks filled the half-drained fountain. The statue collapsed when they shoved it. 

 

Not one monster to be found in the entire place. How disappointing. They'd come all this way because fighting monsters was so much more of a challenge than slaughtering humans. And what was their reward? A paltry three monsters. Useless. 

 

They moved on into the CORE. The place always gave them the willies. Shadows danced in the corners of their vision. They kept feeling like someone was watching them, someone who looked at them and saw nothing more than an ant. Annoying, but ultimately destined to be stomped beneath their shoes. They didn't like that feeling. They suspected it was what their victims felt around them. 

 

Corridor after corridor passed before their eyes. No monsters. No monsters. No monsters. They turned the corner before the drop off of the ice and then-

 

They had to be hallucinating. There was no way the smiley trash bag was standing in front of them, was there? They'd seen him dust. They'd _ dusted _ him. They hadn't gotten lazy like the first time and just let him leave. So how could he be here, broken eye sockets and all?

 

“you look started, kid. weren't you listening? i said i’d died before, didn't i?  **what's gonna stop me from doing it again?** ”

 

* * *

 

Sans wasn't proud of the fight that followed. It was dirty, even for him. But it was all for a good cause. No. Scratch that. He wasn't some crusader excusing his acts. What he was doing, what he had done, was horrible. But since he had no better alternative that he or the CORE could think of, this would have to do.

 

He tripped the kid with blasters. He spun bones just above the ground to twist their ankles. He shifted gravity to the walls and chased just behind them with a mass of blue bones. He pushed and pushed and pushed. 

 

What he did not do was cause them damage. His attacks were designed to hide that, to give the impression of a narrow escape from a desperate monster. But not one ounce of intent last behind it. He didn't want to hurt them this time. He wanted to herd them. 

 

Sans saw the realization hit their SOUL a second too late. They flinched and struggled, but it was no use. They were already falling, and once that fall started you couldn't make it stop. He watched their dark red SOUL fall. He kept watching long after they had vanished into the black VOID. He didn't have the energy to look away. His grief had finally caught up with him. 

 

* * *

 

Chara woke up in a pit of nothing. There was no light, and yet they could see their knife clearly in their dusty hand. There was no sound, and when they snapped their fingers it sounded odd, distorted, like they were standing underwater, only then that sound traveled through a long, metal tube.

 

Okay, they were done. This place was boring now- time to move on. They reached for their LOAD screen, confidence and boredom clear on their face. 

 

BUT IT REFUSED. 

 

What? What the heck did that even mean? “But it refused”. What kind of a joke was this? That useless comedian had better watch his back. They might just tear it apart vertebra by vertebra. 

 

BUT IT REFUSED. 

 

Okay, seriously, they were done. It was funny once, ha ha, great. But they wanted to go back now. So stop it. 

 

BUT IT REFUSED. 

 

Seriously, stop. This wasn't fun anymore. 

 

BUT IT REFUSED. 

 

BUT IT REFUSED. 

 

BUT IT REFUSED.

 

Why. Won't. It. Fucking. Work? 

 

BUT IT REFUSED. 

 

BUT IT REFUSED. 

 

BUT IT REFUSED. 

 

…

 

BUT IT REFUSED. 

 

* * *

 

Gaster watched the corrupted SOUL of the first human. They screamed like a banshee; he was sure that if he had blood it would be curdling. They were that bad. They kicked and punched the empty “air”. It did nothing. There was nothing for it to do something to. They pulled out their knife and slashed wildly around them. Their blows always stayed low. They left trails of sticky, gloppy red dropping in the “air”. In other words, they threw a fit like the neglected child they were. 

 

This behavior continued for some time. Eventually, their shouts ceased in hoarse defeat. Their blows grew to little more than twitches. Their slashes dissipated before they'd even finished their swing. They sank to the “floor”, legs folding beneath them. Their elbows rested on their knees. Their tears glistened in the VOID’s not-light.

 

They had finally run out of energy. Good. Gaster needed as little resistance as possible for his part of the plan to work. He glopped over behind them, the CORE keeping any sounds he made from carrying. Before too long (or perhaps an eternity later; time in the VOID was difficult to map) the scientist stood inches behind the genocidal brat.

 

His magic pinged. The sound reached the human’s ears and incited them to turn. It was too late. Their SOUL, the dark corruption shrunken in the center of a bright red heart, was already hovering above the hole in his palm. 

 

Gaster felt the incredible power of the CORE sweep over him. It was so intimate, and yet so alien. Even this small fraction of the power it held dwarfed him just as it's physical shell dwarfed his son. It had to. Suppressing an ENCOUNTER screen was supposed to be impossible. It was a last defense against the overwhelming power of humanity he'd slaved for months to create.

 

Gaster didn't speak. He'd been rehearsing the speech her wanted to give the human all the while they'd been fighting Sans. It was full of sadness, grief, vitriol, anger, disappointment... Many things. But here, now? He found there was nothing he wanted to say. 

 

So it was without warning or fanfare that the former Royal Scientist ripped the SOUL of the human in half.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to talk with me more about this fanfic or others I've written, see my comic, art, or generally mooch about, I can be found on tumblr under the username yastaghr here:
> 
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/yastaghr
> 
> Mostly I do Undertale stuff - the comic is Undertale. So are most of my drawings. There are also stories and randomized reblogs. Feel free to join me.
> 
> Or not. That works too.


	25. Chapter 25

Sans woke up. His skull felt full of fog and darkness. The thin, scratchy blanket around his shoulders held little warmth, but even that was enough to persuade him not to move. If he just kept his sockets closed and didn’t get up then he could pretend...wait. His sockets were closed? Since when? He opened them.

 

The sight before him was familiar but alien. A nearly grey popcorn ceiling riddled with cracks and water stains stretched above him. Vaguely maroon wallpaper led down from that. A curtainless window was just visible behind his skull; the top of a closet peeked into his vision from the direction of his chin. He knew what he’d see if he let his skull turn. The lampshade wasn’t worth the effort. Neither was the rest of his bedroom. 

 

Welp, this was an interesting dream and all, but it kinda paled before the mess of his life right now. Heh. Paled. Because he was a skeleton. And his bones were white. And also he shouldn’t be able to see anything more than empty black. 

 

Just when he was about to fall back asleep Sans heard a voice through the walls. It was not quiet.

 

“NYEH!!! SANS!!!”

 

The door to his room burst open. He let his skull roll over to face it. His brother stood in the doorway in all his costumed glory. He was blinking at the wall, and when Sans went to look, he  saw the handle was embedded in the plaster. Huh. Hadn’t that happened be- oh. Right. This must be a memory. Next Pap would be chastising him and dragging him out of bed to the bathroom.

 

“SANS?” 

 

His brother was looking at him oddly. Sans couldn’t place the look. Had he ever seen Pap look like that? It was worried...but also confused? And concerned. And...well, he couldn’t place the rest. It was complicated, clearly. 

 

“ARE YOU ALRIGHT, BROTHER? YOU DIDN’T DO THE THING THIS MORNING.”

 

A thing? What thing? He-

 

A tsunami of magic inundated Sans’ SOUL. Papyrus was...Papyrus? He was there, he could  _ feel _ him! It was Papyrus! 

 

Sans was overwhelmed. His brother was here! He sent a pulse of absolutely ecstatic magic through to his brother as he fought with the blankets. Papyrus blinked. A glimmer of magic had flickered along the bond between them, but another had traveled through the walls and out of the room.

 

Sans hadn’t noticed the second flicker. He was too busy sending a second pulse of love and relief towards his brother. The second was followed by a third, then a fourth; the pattern quickly devolved into a long stream of magic and emotion that was almost as fluid as the tears on Sans’ cheekbones.

 

“SANS! STOP THAT. YOU ARE GOING TO WEAR YOURSELF OUT, AND THEN YOU WILL HAVE NO MAGIC LEFT TO GREET ME TOMORROW!”

 

Sans blinks at his brother for the first time in months, although it would be more linearly accurate to say it was the first time in approximately 11 hours. Then he was at his brother’s side, the rush fueling a teleport because he couldn’t bear to waste the time it would take to run over. Sans could hardly handle the second it took to wrap his arms around his brother and squeeze.

 

* * *

 

Grillby woke to a muddled mind, a muddled memory, and a muddled bed. His mind felt as though several important bits had wandered off, not just for a short break, but with the serious intention of not coming back for years. The rest of it felt like cotton-filled molasses clogging up the pipes of an intricate machine. 

 

His memory seemed to have been fused with a particularly large clot of the molasses; bits and pieces of sensory input without any connection to to the rest had bobbed to the surface. All of it seemed grainy and dulled. It was a very particular kind of grainy and dulled. Unfortunately, the bit of his mind that knew what it meant was far gone.

 

His bed, at least, was easy enough to sort out. He jerked his way out from under the covers. Every joint was stiff. Every muscle was sore. These two facts made it rather hard to move, but getting out of bed...well, it did not demand much grace of an elemental as old as he. Just as Grillby had extricate himself from the tangled sheets a particularly large clump of memory burst free.

 

* * *

 

_ The bone slicing up through a human child’s shoulder made a sound he never wanted to hear again. Two more followed, and the human snarled. Grillby turned in wonderment to catch the rocketing skeleton in his shaking grip. _

 

_ “.....Sans?” _

 

_ The skeleton tugged at his grip. _

 

_ “come on, grillbz. time to leave.” _

 

_ His flames popped in fury. _

 

_ “.....They killed Gerson. I cannot-” _

 

_ His words dissolved in a slash of spreading pain. _

 

* * *

 

That was...certainly something. He could not recall the last time he had seen Gerson. To think he was- no. Gerson was not dead. His mind finally caught up with the present timeline. Gerson was alive and annoying as ever, and Sans hardly ever moved above an amble. He only ever saw Sans when the skeleton came into the bar, and the warmth and protectiveness he had felt in the memory...ah. It had been a human in the scene, and that allowed for the possibility of a LOAD or a RESET. 

 

Grillby’s flames dimmed. If Gerson had died in a world before a RESET, he was probably feeling the effects now. And Sans would too. Both of them remembered more than he did, although how he knew that about Sans he would question another day. He would have to ask one of them what had happened. Living with that much of a-

 

Magic and emotion poked him in the ribcage. He reeled as the bond he had always hoped to build upon with Sans inundated him with confusion. He nearly collapsed onto the bed as Sans’ own shock tripled his own. Then his flames soared and scorched the ceiling when elation overcame him. 

 

Stars, what had happened in that last loop? Had they actually...and what was making Sans feel like this? It was suddenly much more urgent that he go and learn what all was worth remembering from the last loop, and he was fairly certain he knew just the monster to ask.

 

* * *

 

Grillby stood at the front door of the brothers’ house. He had come here in such a rush, but his confidence had been scared off by the wreath on the door. He’d never gone inside the house that he knew of. He’d barely ever spoken to Papyrus. He didn’t know if Sans truly did remember LOADs and RESETs, or if one had even occurred. He had no right to come here and ask. Why should he? As much as he admired Sans, and as strong as their unacknowledged bond seemed to be, their relationship was nothing more than the local bartender and his favorite regular.

 

But the bond was there, and it was strong, and, as if to remind him of the fact, it passed him another set of Sans’ emotions. Desperate love filled him, more powerful than anything he had felt before. It overruled his hesitation and thrust him into the home. 

 

He barely even registered the room he swept through on his way to the staircase. The only thing he was able to note was the smell of badly-cooked spaghetti. For some reason it gave him the echo of the feeling of sad.

 

The stairs were passed just as quickly. The upper hallway was where he finally slowed down; his own caution asserted itself at long last. Grillby had no idea what he would find in Sans’ room. He’d seen the privacy signs on Papyrus’ door. What if the brothers were zealous about it? He knew some monsters were. He had already forced himself into their home; entering their sleep space would be a thousand times worse.

 

But as he reached the hallway’s end he saw that the door was already open. Indeed, it was so open that the handle was embedded in the wall. The brothers were in the doorway. Papyrus appeared as if he had been knocked off his feet by the smaller monster holding desperately to his back. Sans was hugging his brother with the same emotion that had driven Grillby to his door. Seeing that much emotion, negative emotion, on Sans’ face broke Grillby’s heart. He gave into his SOUL and let himself be absorbed into the pile of hugs. Learning more could wait. Right now he had a skeleton to attend to.

 

* * *

 

The CORE was annoyed. Sans wasn’t nearby, and it didn’t like when it couldn’t find Sans. It wanted to ask Sans if the human had done the weird thing right. The temporal field outside of it felt different, so the plan had worked. 

 

The problem was that it didn’t know if it had fixed Sans because it couldn’t find Sans. Sans wasn’t here. But Sans could be somewhere other than here. Maybe it should look?

 

Looking was good. When the CORE reached out it found that it could feel farther than it ever had before. It could feel the yellow scientist and the very sad monster wearing metal who sometimes visited. It could feel the small armless one who had not fallen inside. It could feel the loud one. It could feel Grillby. It could feel Sans.

 

[Hi Sans. Hi! What are you doing? It is a hug, but there are three of you. Is it a hughug? or a hughughug? May I join the hugs?]

 

It felt Sans startlement, then it felt his happy content. It heard him think to it, “oh, hey core. yeah, this is a hug pile. if you can figure out how to join you might as well. why not? it isn’t gonna end anytime soon.”

 

The CORE was happy. Sans felt good. Sans was listening. Sans felt like Sans. It was glad the plan had worked, because it didn’t like when Sans didn’t feel like Sans. But now he did, so it was good. Now it had to find a plan to keep him that way.

 

* * *

 

It was later. Gaster wasn’t sure how much later, given that time was...time was...well, time was confusing, even to a physicist of his caliber. All of the rules that he’d ever known got thrown out the window when faced with a SOUL of determination. But however insane as it may be, time still passed. Sometimes. Someplaces. Maybe.

 

His son was waiting in the treeline by the entrance to the Ruins. He’d gone to the door not long before. Gaster wasn’t sure why, although he could see the place held some significance. But whatever reason it was, something his son had heard had made him hid. He looked furious, terrified, curious, and confused. Gaster had a feeling he knew what was coming next.

 

Sure enough, a familiar human emerged from the RUINS a short while later. Well, they were as familiar as a human could be whose sweater pattern was actually discernable now. The last time he had seen them, the human had been covered with dust. Apparently they hadn’t built up enough, now. In fact, he didn’t think they had built up any. Their LOVE was at 1, and their EXP remained a lovely, refreshing value of 0. 

 

Sans seemed to have noticed the change too, because he didn’t blast the human with a series of Blasters as Gaster admitted to himself he probably would have done. Instead, Sans let the human shiver their way on. He did smash a fallen log to pieces, though. His father approved.

 

Finally, the human reached the bridge covered with a very widespread sort of fence that would stop nobody from crossing it. The human, however, stopped. They trembled as, to Gaster’s incredulity, Sans walked slowly up behind them. The skeleton stopped, probably speaking. He hadn’t moved an inch before the human spun. Gaster gulped. 

 

The human didn’t seem interested in hurting his son, however. They were too busy trying to hold back the flood of tears oozing down their face. Gaster was surprised to see that the liquid was clear. The human’s face wrinkled. Then they lifted their hands and made gestures Gaster was surprised to recognise. 

 

They were using Hands. They were using Hands  _ naturally.  _  They were using Hands to sign three things, each repeated and mingled ad nauseum. The first was ‘sorry’. The second, ‘thank you’. The third was ‘they’re gone’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the final chapter is finished!
> 
> There may be a followup story, but probably not. I have too many ideas for new stories, and I promised myself I wouldn't post any until I'd finished this one!
> 
> Feel free to check my other stuff out! More will be coming, especially now that at least some of my problems have sorted themselves.


End file.
